


Jinxed Evocation (Chamber of Secrets)

by CelestialKestrel



Series: Jinxed Evocation (HP) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Canonical Character Death, Crushes, Death Eaters, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, More relationship tags may be added as I write this, Near Death Experiences, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Unrequited Crush, Werewolves, ravenclaw original character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialKestrel/pseuds/CelestialKestrel
Summary: Looking through his old journal, Alvah found out that the boy with glasses, who lived over the road, wasn't as normal as he first appeared to be.And soon he found out, neither was he.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory & Original Male Character(s), Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Original Male Character(s), Harry Potter & Original Male Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Series: Jinxed Evocation (HP) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041261
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

The rain had been beating on the windows for days now, slithers of liquid falling down the glass and onto the chipping windowpane outside of a small untidy bedroom. The curtains were open a smidgen, just enough for a pair of curious eyes to glide over Privet Drive as damp gloomy cars stirred the small pebbles on the road of the very uneventful, average street. 

Mrs Figgs exited her vehicle, her broken nails shakily reaching into her pocket as she unlocked her door. She craned her short neck, her grizzled hair humorously being blown by the sharp wind as she managed to wriggle her way inside of her home on Wisteria Walk, which was a few houses down the street. 

A small hand messed with unruly mousey brown, curly hair; pulled back to reveal a thin, cheeky face and wide golden-brown eyes. This is the face of Alvah Laverne, a young boy of twelve, but despite his looks, he hides a very sharp tongue.

Leaning backwards, he let out an impatient sigh as he leant on his hand, his baggy clothes revealing a peculiar birthmark reaching from the bottom of the right collarbone, running towards the left side of his chest as he scribbled answers chaotically into a Maths book. Today’s lesson was algebra, and he absolutely hated it. All of the alphabet and numbers mingling did funny things to his brain, to the point of him nearly drifting to sleep. 

Alvah’s mother’s stern but a gentle voice called his name up the stairs. “Have you nearly finished your work?”

“Yes mum!” he replied slightly groggily. “Umm, I’m just a bit stuck on the problem-solving thing for page 12.” 

Her feet creaked on the floorboards, slowly approaching his room. She pulled the golden handle down and peered into the bedroom. White-gold sleek hair gently hangs over a kind, time-worn face as she peered inside, her hazel eyes dancing over her son's face; seemingly able to pierce through anyone's facade. Her skin glows like the moon - her temperament appearing calm, but a sense of remorse burns under the surface.

“It’s the one to do with the buckets, isn’t it?” she smiled cheekily, her bright eyes creasing.

Alvah nodded as she plopped herself down beside him, her long nails tracing the page. “Hmm, let’s see here. You’re not too far off!” she chirped. “You just forgot to carry this number here.”

She scribbled the correction down in red ink, pushing some of her blond wispy hair behind one of her ears. Alvah unhappily stared up at her. “How long will it be like this?”

“What do you mean?” She asked as she leant back.

“Well, y’know. School?” he replied nimbly. “Not that I don’t enjoy spending more time with you. I’m just starting to miss my friends.”

She gently placed a soft hand into his hair, stroking strands away from his face. “Oh, sweetheart. If I could let you go back, I would! It’s just… complicated.”

“Is it because of your new job?” Alvah inquired, looking up at her.

“Well... Sort of.” She smiled softly. “You can always ring them up while I’m homeschooling you.”

After a few heartbeats, he agreed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Alright, I think that’s enough of algebra today,” Alvah’s mum yawned as her gaze flickered down to her watch. “I think it’s time for tea. We can catch up on some Blue Peter, eh?”

Alvah’s dark eyes lit up as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! That’d be great. I’m kind of not taking in stuff today.”

“Is your head in the clouds, love?” she giggled, playfully patting Alvah’s back. “C’mon, let’s go downstairs. I’ll pop the kettle on.”

Alvah accompanied her down the narrow corridor, his shadow flickering across primary school's framed photos, and the numerous holidays he'd been on with his friends and mum.

She disappeared into the kitchen as he launched onto the fake leather couch; stretching out like a slinky, some of his stiff bones cracking back into place as he reached lazily over to the television remote. Alvah flicked it over to BBC, preparing for the show.

Eventually, his mum reappeared, placing some biscuits, a teapot and some cups onto the slightly stained coffee table. She smiled heartily as she sat beside her son, taking out a magazine about perfumes. 

She rubbed her wrist onto one of them and wrinkled her nose up after sniffing it. “That smells rubbish!” she complained. “Here, have a sniff.”

Awkwardly, Alvah obliged, leaning down and gingerly smelling the perfume, which honestly smelt like a dog. “What the bloody hell is that meant to be?”

“Language!” she lectured, then she shifted looking down at the page. “Apparently, it’s meant to be a meadow.”

He giggled slightly. “That does not smell like a meadow.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” she laughed, doing that funny thing adults do as she turned the page; licking her fingers to ‘stop the pages sticking’. 

After Blue Peter had finished, Alvah poured out some more tea for himself and his mum, the aroma of lasagne filling the house from the oven. Alvah glanced up at her, his dark curly locks falling over his thin eyebrows. “I think tea’s ready, mum.”

“Oh, yeah. I nearly forgot I put it in,” she blurted, clumsily getting up and bumping her toe on the table. She hissed, jumping up and down for a moment; preventing herself from cursing as Alvah stifled a laugh. She composed herself and turned towards the kitchen. “Alright, I won’t be a minute.” 

Just as she got up to take it out of the oven, Alvah’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud, booming voice that almost caused him to drop his cup.

“That bloody bird keeps making a racket!” the angry voice yowled. “We ought to shove it into the broom cupboard. Maybe then it’ll stop squawking.”

Alvah shifted from his seat, and walked over to the window, peering through the misty glass. The family at number 4 looked like they had just returned from a shopping trip as they lugged heavy looking carrier bags towards their door. 

A scrawny boy with glasses appeared from out of the passenger seat, huffing out. “I’ve told you before, she’s bored! If only I could let her out to fly-”

“Fly?” the broad man boomed. “Pah! I know what would happen if you let it out. Right, grab these!”

He chucked the rest of the bags into the boy's arms, nearly causing him to stumble. His cheeks were flushed slightly red, judging from his foul expression, it was most likely from anger - Alvah didn’t blame him, he felt annoyed just watching it.

“I’m hungry!” a chubby boy complained as he appeared beside a woman.

“I know, diddums,” she cooed. “I’ll make something for you when we get all this stuff inside.” Her face contorted into disgust as she glared at the smaller lad. “Harry!” she croaked. “Hurry up, will you? We haven’t gotten all day.”

“I know,” Harry replied, obviously irritable. “I’m just getting the door open.”

A warm presence shifted close to Alvah, his mother gazed out of the window, her eyes glassy. “That poor boy,” she mumbled. “The Dursleys have always treated him horribly.”

“The Dursleys?” Alvah questioned turning to look at her, his face scrunching up slightly.

“Yes, that’s right, they’re his Aunt and Uncle, the smaller boy - I mean.”

“Then why are they treating him like that…?” he asked, his lips twitching downwards.

“They… they just don’t like him since he’s different from them,” she explained, seemingly trying to word it carefully. “I’ve had a few run-ins with those two in the past. They act pleasant to the neighbours, but you only have to see how they treat Harry to know that they’re not exactly what you’d call ‘kind’.”

“You don’t say,” Alvah mumbled, watching as Harry finally managed to stumble inside, closing the door behind him as the rest of his family entered.

“Alright, get your food down you,” Alvah’s mum ordered, beckoning you over to the dinner table. “Maybe you could say hello to him, what do you reckon?”

“Harry?” he asked as he sat down on the wooden chair, carelessly gripping a knife and fork. “Yeah, he looks like he needs a friend, for sure.”

“After you’ve had your tea, maybe you could knock on?” she offered, taking a bite out of the lasagne in between sentences. “The Dursleys will be fine with you, maybe invite him over, that way he can have some breathing room.”

“Okay!” Alvah enthused, tucking into his rather large dinner. “It’s been a while since we’ve had anyone over.”

After he felt full, he quickly got washed and dressed; clumsily placing a water-proof coat on and headed outside, the damp air hit his cheeks like a truck. Shivering slightly, Alvah crossed over the road, knocking on at the Dursleys. 

Inside, Harry’s uncle’s voice boomed, ordering him to get the door. As he approached the doorway, Alvah curled his hands around himself, shielding his cold skin from the rubbish weather.

The door unlocked and misty glasses and a bright green gaze fell on to Alvah’s slightly flushed face, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Who are you?”

“I’m the neighbour who lives at number 8,” Alvah answered, quickly gesturing towards his house. “I’m Alvah, I’ve not really spoken to you or your family before, so I wondered if you wanted to come over for some tea? We have some leftover food.”

A small smile appeared on his lips. “Hold on - um, I’ll just ask Uncle Vernon.”

After a few moments, ‘Uncle Vernon’ appeared beside Harry, forcing a fake welcoming composure, his moustache twitching slightly as his lips curled upwards. “Hello! You must be Laverne’s son?”

“Yes,” Alvah nodded. “And you’re called Mr Vernon?”

“My wife is called Petunia, my son is Dudley and this here,” the intonation of his next words were spoken as if he had a crumpled piece of paper lodged in his neck. “is Harry Potter - my nephew.”

“Right, well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr Vernon. I was wondering if you’d mind if Harry could come over to my house for a while? I’ve never met him before, so I thought it'd be a good chance to get to know him,” Alvah explained, as politely as he could muster.

“Oh-” he blurted, slightly taken aback. “Well, I suppose we could all come over?”

_Oh no, not them_

“Uh, of course!” Alvah stammered, trying to hide his annoyance. “Feel free to knock on when you’re ready.”

“I can come over now,” Harry stated rather quickly.

Before Vernon could prevent him from walking away from his house, Harry had grabbed his coat and rushed to Alvah’s side. Vernon made a strange grunting sound, almost like a bulldog. “Alright then, we’ll be over in another ten minutes.”

“Okay,” Alvah stated nonchalantly, disguising his annoyance. “C’mon Harry, you can get first dibs,” he joked.

His tense body language had loosened up as he walked beside Alvah. Harry cleared his throat. “Uh, I must warn you that my Aunt and Uncle can be a little - well… overbearing?”

“Overbearing is one word for it,” Alvah stated it bluntly.

Harry tried to stifle his laugh with his coat sleeve as he trailed beside him, his old worn-out shoes splashing into the puddles that pooled around the edges of the road.

Alvah unlocked the door and cracked it open slightly. It wailed out as the wind blew it open and he stepped aside, nodding his head towards the hallway. “You can go in first, you’re soaked through.”

Harry smiled, and ducked his head underneath the doorway as he entered inside, his wet shoes squelching as he treaded forwards. He scraped them on the welcome mat and proceeded to remove them, placing them on the wooden shoe rack next to the entrance. 

Alvah’s mum peered over the doorway, her bright eyes twinkling as she gazed at Harry. “Hi dear, you must be Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“You can call me Ms Laverne if you like?” she offered as she took his coat.

“Oh,” Harry stammered. “Ok, thank you.”

Alvah watched him worriedly - Harry seemed as if he was expecting to be yelled at. Alvah frowned, thinking that Harry’s life at home must be awful. “I can get you some food if you want?”

Harry nodded, excitedly as he entered inside and gazed at the assortment of shelves with intricate glass flower vases and pictures resting on top of the marbled wood. Alvah moved towards the kitchen, grabbing some cutlery and a plate for him.

After he placed it on the table, Alvah’s mother raised an eyebrow at her son. He glanced up at her in confusion, then realised he hadn’t set the table properly. “Oh, sorry!” Alvah mumbled as he grabbed some napkins and placed the knife and fork the right way around. Alvah’s golden brown eyes landed back on Harry, he offered him a friendly smile. “The food is laid out on the table, so feel free to take as much as you want.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied quietly, pulling up a chair and sitting upon it. 

Alvah and his mum sat at the table beside Harry and she nudged her son. “There’s some chocolate cake I made for dessert too if you want any.”

“Oh, thanks, mum!” Alvah grinned, taking a slice.

“You can have some after you’ve had your tea too if you’d like, Harry.”

Harry nodded, placing a napkin over his mouth after swallowing some more of the lasagne. “You’re a really good cook, Ms Laverne.”

“Aw, thank you, sweetheart,” she giggled. “Do your Aunt and Uncle cook for you?”

“Sometimes,” Harry admitted. “Most of the time, I end up cooking for them, if there are no guests over.”

“You cook for them?” she gasped. “I mean, it’s good to know how to cook at your age, but don’t you think it’s a little dangerous?”

“I have burnt myself sometimes,” Harry stated as he stabbed his fork through some broccoli. “But, it’s getting easier to make food, I guess.“

“Whenever I make food, I ask Alvah to help out,” she replied. “But if he didn’t have any parental guidance, he’d probably be missing all of his fingers by now,” she laughed.

“Mum!” he complained, as Harry sniggered. “I can cook!”

“If you call burnt toast and microwaved canned tomatoes cooking, you would be on Masterchef,” she stated dryly as she took a sip from her wine glass, earning a light shove from Alvah.

“But in my opinion,” Ms Laverne said, her tone suddenly serious. “You shouldn't have to make food for them. Of course, learning to cook is a great skill to have, but at your age… you need someone looking after you.”

“It’s alright, I’m used to it,” Harry added.

“Used to it?” Alvah inquired fretfully. 

Harry nodded, smiling. 

It went quiet for a few moments after he had finished eating, then Alvah cleaned up his plate as his mother spoke to him. 

After Alvah finished washing up, he took a seat next to Harry. “So, what school do you go to?”

“Oh, I got to Hog-” Harry stammered, swiftly correcting himself from whatever he was going to say before. “Uhm, I go to St. Brutus's.”

“St Brutus’s?” Alvah squeaked. “Isn’t that the place that’s meant to be for really bad kids?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” Harry replied casually.

“No way, am I believing that you go there, Harry. You’re really polite!” he answered. “Your Aunt and Uncle are-”

The buzz of the doorbell alerted all of them to more guests - cutting Alvah off from describing his Aunt and Uncle with vulgar language. Ms Laverne smiled over at the two boys. “It’s quite alright, I’ll get it. You two can go upstairs since you have finished eating.”

“Thanks, mum,” Alvah smiled. “Come on, Harry. I can show you some of the games I’ve got.”

“Cool!” Harry chirped as he was led upstairs, he stopped for a minute on the landing, frowning at a hefty wooden door, a sign hung from it:

**OFF LIMITS**

“What’s that for?” Harry asked, fixing his glasses.

“Oh, that room?” Alvah replied. “It’s nothing special, really. It’s where my mum works. It used to be for storage, but she changed jobs.”

Harry nodded, his eyes lingering on it for a moment. “Oh, right.”

“This here’s my room,” Alvah stated as an obnoxious sound echoed from downstairs, he visibly cringed as Petunia’s whiny voice squawked from downstairs. “Ooh, what a lovely house!” 

Alvah tried to ignore them as he let Harry into his bedroom; hastily closing the door behind himself to dampen out the noises of Harry’s strange relatives. “You can sit down on my bed if you want.”

“Thank you,” Harry stated as he plopped himself down onto the mattress. His bright green eyes gliding over the assortment of wizard and witch books tucked disorderly onto an oversized bookshelf. “Do you like magic?” Harry asked, catching Alvah by surprise as he dragged a SNES out from underneath his bulky television.

“Oh, yeah!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “I think wizards and witches are really cool.”

Harry smiled slightly. “I do too.”

“Really?” Alvah grinned as he slotted in Street Fighter II into the console. “Most of my friends aren’t too bothered about magic, to be honest. But the idea of it is so interesting to me.”

“What’s your favourite thing about those books?” Harry inquired, picking up one of the heftier sized ones and absent-mindedly flicking through its pages.

“Definitely the spells and world-building,” Alvah enthused, then his face fell. “I bet I sound like a nerd,” he awkwardly laughed, as he brushed some of his curly fringe from his forehead.

“No, no!” Harry shook his head. “I think it’s cool to meet someone that likes this kind of stuff too.” He smiled down at the book in his hands. “Do you mind if I borrow this?”

“Yeah, go for it,” Alvah replied. “Do you wanna have a go on this game with me?”

Harry grinned. “Sure!”

Hours flew by as they played on different arcade games, then the sharp voice of Petunia called up to the two of them. “Harry, dear, time to go home!”

Alvah cringed at her fake tone, causing Harry to laugh a little. “It’s alright, I should get going. Maybe we could hang out again soon?”

“Definitely!” Alvah grinned widely. “I’ll see you later, Harry.”

“See you.”

The next few days came and went as Alvah continued being homeschooled by his mum, the wet weather eventually clearing, finally unveiling the sun that had been hidden by grey clouds. 

After he had a shower, knocking on his door caused Alvah to startle. He yelled for whoever was waiting to hold on; it was most likely a delivery. Swiftly, he threw on some casual clothes, answering the door.

Black messy hair and bright green eyes greeted him.

“Harry!” he exclaimed in pleasant surprise. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said a little gloomily. “Could I come in for a bit?”

“Sure,” Alvah replied gently, stepping aside for him.

He removed his coat and looked down the hallway as he hung it up. “Where’s your mum?”

“Oh, she’s out at the moment, she’s just gone shopping.”

Harry nodded and walked into the front room, as Alvah trailed slowly behind him. “You look a little… down? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“My Aunt and Uncle have been a little frustrating if I’m honest,” Harry sighed. “I have this… pet bird, and they won’t let me release her so she can fly for a while. She’s been stuck in the cage for months.”

“That’s awful Harry,” Alvah replied glumly. “Can’t you take her over here for a while?”

He shook his head. “No, if I did, they’d probably moan at me.”

“What’s your pet’s name?”

“Hedwig,” Harry replied, a fondness in his tone. “I’ve only had her for a year, but she means a lot to me.”

“What kind of bird is she?”

“Oh, she’s uh, she’s a cockatoo?” Harry smiled, almost like he was trying to conceal the truth.

“...A cockatoo, you say in a questioning tone,” Alvah stated dryly.

“Yep,” Harry answered. “That’s right.”

“Okay Harry,” he chuckled a little. “Do you want a drink?”

“Yes please.”

Alvah nodded and walked into the kitchen, his bare feet slapping against the cold tiles as he turned on the metal kettle. Alvah stretched slightly as it boiled, a yawn escaping his lips, then once the water finished bubbling, he brewed both of him and Harry some tea and grabbed a few biscuits, placing them on the living room table.

Harry smiled appreciatively, and leant forwards to some of the bourbon biscuits and dipping them into his beverage. 

Alvah crossed his legs as he sat beside him, and turned on the news; listening to it as the anchors reported the same boring stuff. At least it was some background noise to break up the silence between them both. 

“Do you have any friends, Harry?” Alvah abruptly asked.

Harry nodded after taking a bite from another biscuit. “Yeah, I do. They’re called Hermione and Ron - but I only see them when term starts again.”

“In September…?”

“Yeah, the Dursleys don’t really let me see them and I haven’t had any letters from them for a while,” Harry explained. “I’m a little worried about them.”

“Haven’t you called them?” Alvah inquired, sipping some of your tea.

“No, and they can’t really call me,” Harry replied. “Uh, my Aunt is always using the phone.”

Alvah raised an eyebrow at him as he placed his cup back on the shiny saucer. “Well, you’re always welcome to stay over with me, Harry. My mum likes you a lot, she asked after you yesterday.”

Harry smiled, then quietly spoke. “Oh, thank you. I read your book, by the way.”

“Did you like it?” 

“Yeah, the main character reminded me a bit of Ron, weirdly enough,” he laughed a little. “He had ginger hair, so that probably was why though. Some of the charms they did were interesting.”

“Charms? Oh, you mean the spells?”

Harry blinked for a few moments, then dipped his head. “Yeah, um, a few books I’ve read have different subtypes of spells, like dark magic, transfiguration and stuff like that.”

“Oh? That sounds cool!” Alvah replied excitedly. “Do you have any books I could borrow?”

“Most of them are still at my school,” Harry replied.

“That’s alright, don’t worry, maybe I could look at them some other time… Speaking of-” he broke off from the conversation glancing up at the clock. “My mum should be coming back soon.”

“Should I go then?” Harry asked hurriedly.

“No, it’s alright, you can stay here. I’m only going to be doing some boring stuff anyway, like reading of Mice and Men and whatnot. Maybe you could help me study?”

Harry smiled. “I’d like that.”

Half an hour passed by as they chatted about Alvah's current favourite game: The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, then the conversation drifted back onto magic, it always seemed to go back to wizards and witches whenever they both spoke - not that Alvah minded, hearing his ideas on what magic would be like were really fun to listen too.

“Alright, boys!” A cheery voice bellowed as the front door swung open. 

“Mum!” Alvah yelled excitedly as he rushed over to her, nosily eyeing her carrier bag. “Have you got any ice-cream?”

She dramatically sighed, sweeping some of her blond hair away from her golden skin. “If you could live off of it, you would, wouldn’t you?” Reluctantly, she handed him some, then she rummaged in her bag, handing Harry some ice-cream too. “So, what have you two been up to?”

“Oh, just talking about stuff,” Alvah helpfully stated.

“That sounds exciting,” she laughed. “Your English lesson will be starting soon, sweetheart. Feel free to join in if you want, Harry. It’ll be fun having an extra student in my classes.”

Harry smiled up at her as he chewed on the chocolate covering the ice-cream. “Sure.”

As the lessons went by, Alvah couldn’t help but notice that Harry didn’t seem to know about certain subjects. Most of the other schools in the area taught the same things to students, so it was a little confusing to see him seem like he had a different curriculum. Ms Laverne had seemed to notice too, sharing confused and worried glances with her son.

Knocking boomed on the door and Ms Laverne jumped a little at the sound; almost as if she was expecting someone. “Hold on, I’ll get it.”

She disappeared through the hallway as Harry exchanged glances with Alvah, then after a few moments, she came back towards the two of them, offering Harry a worried smile. “I think your Aunt and Uncle have come to pick you up, sweetheart.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you for letting me stay, Ms Laverne.”

“It’s quite alright, don’t be a stranger now!” she called as he waved goodbye to Alvah.

The door shut behind him and she shook her head, her forehead wrinkling. “They’re not very pleasant people, are they?”

“No, not at all,” Alvah stated seriously.


	2. The Mysterious Envelope

That night, Alvah crawled into bed and dragged out a raggy old journal. Scribbling down all of the events that had occurred today, then his mind flickered on to something that he thought he had forgotten.

Alvah curled his knees close to his chest and flicked the pages backwards. Squinting at the dates inked onto the page, his memory revisiting a strange day from last year, July the 30th 1991. He traced an index finger over the words, his lips twitched slightly as he muttered the words under his breath. 

Almost as if being transported back to 1991, Alvah could picture the summer breeze drifting through his dark hair as the Dursleys slammed their way out of their car yelling at Harry. 

> _I peeped out of the window, squinting my eyes to see him dragging bulky cases from the car as the rest of his relatives went back inside of the house._
> 
> _Mum leant close to me and said: "Sometimes I wonder if I should step in, the way they treat that boy..."_
> 
> _I told her "Well, you could always tell them off, couldn’t you?”_
> 
> _She brushed her hair angrily behind her ear. "You know what, you're right. Why don't I?"_
> 
> _She left my side and stormed out of the house, waiting for the boy's guardians to be out of sight._
> 
> _She walked over to him, leaning down to his height and handed him a chocolate bar; then she pointed in the direction of your house, mouthing something that seemed to make the boy smile._
> 
> _Then she knocked on the door and exchanged a few firm but polite words with them, before coming back inside, a proud look on her heart-shaped face. "I will be keeping a close eye on him. How about you tell me if you see anything too?"_
> 
> _I nodded. "I will."_
> 
> _The sun was beginning to set on Privet Drive, the red and purples swirling into the horizon. As I watched the sky from your window, something loud hit against it._
> 
> _An owl._
> 
> _I opened my window, only to see piles and piles of letters outside of the Dursleys house. It only got worse from there, eventually as a week went by, and Sunday rolled around, the letters began flooding out of their chimney, some of them landing on my front lawn._
> 
> _Hundreds of impatient owls hunched themselves over their house hooting and spreading their light coloured feathers everywhere._
> 
> _I walked outside, not bothering to put any shoes on. The grass disguised the writing on the posh-looking letter, so I leant down and picked it up. I turned it over and gazed at who it was addressed to. It was labelled as Mr H Potter, on the top left side of it and something that looked like a school badge was printed on, dubbed 'Hogwarts'. Feeling uncomfortable with opening it, I walked over to their house and placed it on the growing pile of unopened letters the Dursleys had._  
> 

Alvah frowned, his eyes drifting dreamily to the dark corners of his room. “What were all those letters about, Harry?” he mumbled.

Ms Laverne’s stern voice called Alvah’s name huskily up the stairs.

"What is it, mum?" Alvah called lazily out of the door.

"Get to bed! It's 2 am! Don't forget you have a Maths lesson tomorrow morning," she replied sternly.

"Yeah, okay. I remember. I'll get some sleep, alright?" Alvah responded, his hand still lingering over the scratched journal.

He heard her muttering something about how her friends would be visiting soon, as seen as he didn't have any other relatives, he called her friends Auntie and Uncle. They lived far away in America though, so when they did visit, it was only around once a year.

Alvah threw the covers clumsily over himself, placing a torch over the next few pages, skimming through them and trying to find anything of interest. Nothing else was written about Harry, sadly.

He sighed and fell slowly back onto the feather-filled pillows, smothering his face with them.

When he woke up, his attention fell on the calendar on the wall.

**Sunday, July 26th, 1992**

Slipping on some slippers, he flopped his way sleepily downstairs. The smell of fried eggs and bacon filling his nostrils. Ms Laverne looked at him as she plated the food. 

"You're finally up!

Alvah nodded as he rubbed his eyes groggily. "Mm."

"Come on, get some breakfast down you before you watch a bit of telly," she ordered as she  
forcefully placed the plate in his hands."After you've had your meal, go have a shower, and then we can start the lesson."

After watching some television, Alvah finished his breakfast and went into the bathroom to have a shower.

The rest of the day went as per usual, his mum teaching him how to solve algebra problems and remember time's tables. Then after the maths ended, Alvah had to finish the rest of his lessons, English, Science, Geography and History.

Alvah was never great at Geography; he was too forgetful to remember the specific names  
locations of towns as well; he felt it was his weakest subject.

Ms Laverne gave him some pocket money after he completed his schedule, her eyes creased, glimmering like stars as she smiled softly down at Alvah. "Go on, love. You can go to the corner shop on Wisteria Walk and buy yourself some treats. You did well today! Especially on your History test."

Alvah hurried out of the house, smiling excitedly, trailing down to the corner store. Vibrant trees and cars passed by him as he stepped down the concrete. Then, his dark eyes fell on two familiar figures in the distance as he strolled; they looked like Harry and his cousin. They seemed to be going in the same direction as Alvah.

Harry’s stuck-up cousin barked orders at him instantly upon entering the store. As he walked over to some of the displays, Harry looked flustered with exasperation and picked up everything Dudley ordered him to.

Frowning, Alvah moved ahead, pushing himself in between them both deliberately. Alvah gave the two of them a friendly smile. "Oh hello!" he interrupted - brushing off the sour expression settling on Dudley’s face. "You must be Dudley."

He stared at Alvah frowning. "..And who are you?" His voice was full of attitude, automatically making Alvah dislike him.

"I live across from you at number 8," Alvah replied, forcing a smile at the spoiled brat. “You came over to my house a few days ago, but I didn’t really get the chance to say hello.”

Dudley looked him up and down, almost as if he was sizing him up, then he lazily shrugged. 

  
A small smile appeared on Harry’s tired face as Alvah looked down at his oversized pocket, rummaging inside of it for some money. He grabbed some sweets and a chocolate bar, then passed the change to the cashier, after he placed Alvah’s items inside a plastic bag, Alvah twirled round to face the two of them. "I'll see you around."

As Dudley and Harry left, he subtly waited outside the shop, and he realized that Harry was carrying at least four bags worth of sweets and groceries - most likely none of it was for him. 

Scowling, Alvah pursued behind them and softly, tapped Harry on his back. He blinked and gazed back at him as Alvah tucked the chocolate bar he bought into his bulky jacket pocket

He grinned at Alvah and mouthed thanks, as though he had known that if he spoke, Dudley would hit him. Both of them went back to their house and Alvah headed back towards his own. In the distance, Mrs Figgs fiddled with her keys outside of her house - all of her cats yowling in excitement as she stepped inside.

After Alvah returned to his house, he rushed into the front room and sat down on the couch, feeling happy about sneaking Harry some sweets. "Maybe whenever I see them going to the shops, I can pass Harry some extra food."

Ms Laverne entered the room, curlers clinging to her hair, brown dye streaked her blonde hair. 

Alvah stared up at her. "Hiya!"

"Hi sweetie," she yawned as she sat next to him. "What's got you all perky?"

"Oh, I gave Harry some sweets. I saw him at the corner shop with his cousin," he eagerly explained.

She smiled and leant back against the couch and turned the telly on, the first channel it flicked onto was playing some reruns of Doctor Who; her favourite show. "Well, I'm glad you're looking out for Harry," she said. “It’s good to know that he’s found another friend.”

Alvah nodded, then frowned in confusion and stared at her hair. "How come you keep dying your hair brown, mum? It goes blonde quickly anyway."

She sighed. "I know, I just think I look washed out with lighter hair, not to mention it draws too much attention to myself.”

"Well, I think blonde hair or brown hair suits you," Alvah said, smiling.

She laughed and ruffled his hair. "Oh come on, you're only saying that."

"No, honestly!" he insisted.

After the day came to a close, he eventually drifted into sleep, the world around him blurring into darkness.

When he next awoke, he went through his usual routine, getting washed and dressed. Alvah clumsily fumbled back into the bathroom and reached for his toothbrush from the cabinet; lazily scrubbing at his teeth and leaning forwards to spit into the sink. As the water washed it away, something felt wrong. 

Alvah’s mum hadn’t dragged him out of bed, maybe it was a weekend?

After putting his toothbrush away, Alvah walked over to the television and flicked it on to the BBC news, as clear as day the date was in the corner: Monday, July 27th 1992

Alvah scrunched up his face in confusion as he made his way over to the window, peering through the misty glass as the sun glimmered over the puffy clouds. The car was still stationed outside on the porch; but there was still no sign of Ms Laverne - no notes or anything.

This was really strange.

“Mum?” He called around the house, but his voice only echoed hollowly around the walls.

Swiftly, he rushed up the creaky staircase, his hands brushing against the bannister. Alvah stopped suddenly outside of the old storage room. He knocked on the door, but there was still no answer - so he let himself in.

The room was a mess; piles of paper were splayed chaotically on the wooden floorboards, the writing on her small whiteboard that hung up on the cold brick wall was smudged - like someone had purposefully erased it. Alvah’s slippers flopped against the hard surface as he leant forwards; left on the table was an empty envelope, addressed to him. 

**MR. ALVAH LAVERNE**   
**8 Privet Drive.**   
**Little Whinging,**   
**SURREY**

His fingers traced over it for a moment, then he flipped it over, folding over the seal to see a symbol of some sort printed on it, it read Hogwarts with various animals placed on different areas of what looked to be a badge.

“What is this…?” he mumbled in confusion as he twisted it around in his small hands. “Where’s the letter?”

A fist hammered against the front door, causing him to flinch at the sound and twist his body towards the landing. He stuffed the peculiar letter in his trouser pocket and gradually made his way to the entrance, pushing through some of the coats that were hanging on some small hooks.

Alvah shakily unlocked the door, squinting his eyes as he opened it. “Hello…?”

“It’s me,” Harry panted, his hair in disarray.

“Harry..?” Alvah exclaimed, slightly startled, his golden-brown eyes lowering to a pile of books clutched in his shaking hands. “Uh, come in.”

“Thanks!” Harry replied hurriedly. Alvah closed the door behind him, nervously fiddling with his sleeves as he sat down in the living room, placing the thick book covers on the couch and quickly flopping one of them open. “Sorry to barge in on you like this,” Harry mumbled. “If my Aunt and Uncle knew I had these, they’d confiscate them.”

“What are they?” Alvah inquired, stepping forwards.

“Uh, fictional books,” Harry answered, his voice breaking slightly. “I need them, for - uh, studying at St Brutus’s.”

“For English lessons?” Alvah questioned as he sat down beside him, the couch grumbling underneath him. “That’s a lot of books…”

“Yeah, I have a lot of studying,” Harry replied, not keeping eye contact as he flicked through the pages. His fingers suddenly stopped on one of the oddly drawn diagrams, and his green eyes gazed upwards. “Where’s your mum gone?”

Alvah shook his head sadly. “I don’t know, it’s kind of unlike her to disappear without letting me know where she’s heading off to first.”

“Her car’s still outside too,” Harry deduced as he shifted. “That’s weird.”

“Yeah, what’s even stranger,” Alvah replied as he dragged out the strange envelope. “I found this in the storage room she uses for work.”

Harry frowned for a moment as he adjusted his glasses, then his eyes widened. “Do you…” He began, his voice quivering slightly with excitement. “Do you know what that is?”

“No?”

  
“Did it come with a letter?” Harry asked as he gazed at it. 

“No.”

“Really? Mine did,” Harry said in uncertainty. “Has your mum said anything?”

“No,” Alvah repeated once again, his lips downturned. 

“Odd,” Harry mumbled. “Well, maybe she could tell you about it when she comes back?” 

Alvah nodded. “Yeah, I hope so.”

“In the meantime, we can play some games after I’ve studied, if you want?” Harry said cheerfully.

Alvah smiled at him, his mind still trailing off to where his mum had gone, then the journal entry that Alvah made last year came to him as a strange passing thought. “Oh, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I know this is a bit random, but when’s your birthday?” Alvah asked as he played around with the empty envelope.

“It’s in a week, July the 31st,” Harry replied, frowning a little, inquisitive. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason. It’s alright, I can buy you something today for it if you want?” Alvah offered.

Harry beamed at him. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“What are friends for,” he joked, lightly nudging Harry.

Harry gazed happily at him, then it fell, looking down at the odd collection of books he had.

After a few hours of playing games with him, Alvah went out to the shop and bought him some sweets and a cute little toy of a wizard he found, he thought he’d appreciate it.

As Alvah journeyed back home, the sky that hung above him had seemed to darken, the seafoam blue colours and white clouds, disappearing. Surely, it couldn’t be that late already?

A cold chill ran up his spine as he stopped outside the unsaturated porch, and for a moment Alvah could have sworn he heard someone whispering. As swiftly as he could he entered back into his house, locking the door behind himself.

Harry glowed over at him as Alvah took his shoes off and handed him his early birthday present. “Here you go, Harry. I know it’s not July the 31st yet, but I figured I’d give it to you a little early.”

Harry took out the bag of sweets, then reached down and clutched the small wizard doll; his green eyes as vibrant as a rainforest as his lips upturned. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright, Harry. Is there anything else you want to play on?” Alvah inquired, trying to brush away the uneasy feeling that nestled inside his chest.


	3. A Disappearing Act

A few days passed by and there was still no sign of Alvah’s mum. He called up her work colleagues, but they said they hadn’t heard from her either. He started to become extremely worried. His feet moved numbly towards the couch as he fidgeted with the edge of his saggy sleeves, pondering if he had said something that upset her that made her leave?

A muffled voice called Alvah’s name from outside the open window, he ignored it at first and continued, but loud knocking caught his attention.

A police officer was standing on the front porch. His stance was firm, and his dark gaze fixed on Alvah through the glass. "Good morning, lad," he said, his voice barely audible through the glazing. “Mind if you could let me in?”

Alvah broke the awkward one-sided staring contest he was doing with him. "Uh, yeah, one minute,” he stated as he grappled for some keys. He opened the door for him and he smiled down at Alvah. “Is there something you need, officer?" Alvah asked, confusion dripping in his tone.

He nodded. “You’re Mrs Laverne’s son, correct?”

“That’s right,” you replied.

He looked down at him sympathetically, his voice soft. "Well, you see, I have some bad news for you.” He stopped for a moment. “Do you want to sit down? This might be a bit of a shock to you.”

After a few minutes, Alvah agreed - following him back to the living room. Out of Alvah’s peripheral vision, he spotted the nosy Dursleys peering at his house from across the street - Alvah took note that there were no signs of any birthday celebration for Harry, they usually put a colourful banner up on their door for Dudley, but it was currently as blank as their stares were.

The police officer waited for Alvah to take a seat, then he finally spoke. “Somebody reported a kidnapping on Wisteria Walk... and we believe the person to have gone missing was your mum.”

“She hasn’t been answering me when I called her,” he mumbled sadly. “So she’s really gone?”

The police officer took out a letter from his pocket and placed it into his trembling hand. "A lady on your street named Mrs Figgs says that she saw her striding down Privet Drive, she seemed tense, then ten minutes later she heard a scream."

"Where was my Mum last seen?" Alvah frightfully gripped at the letter, not paying any attention to it as you badly attempted to stand up - the floor feeling as if it was falling beneath him. He placed his hand on Alvah’s left shoulder, gently making him sit back down.

"She was last seen at the Park down the road from your house on Wisteria Walk," he replied solemnly. “Mrs Figgs gave a statement to me, she said that the only thing that she found was this letter in the park - it is addressed to you.”

“Mum..” Alvah breathed out, his chest constricting. 

He nodded his head. "Mrs Figgs was the only witness - so we don’t have many leads. We are investigating it at the moment, but due to you being underage, the police department has instructed me to keep you under protection, until we can hopefully find her.” The police officer paused for a moment. Do you have any other relatives?"

Alvah shook his head. "No, my mum is the only guardian I have."

"Well then, is there anyone, in particular, you could live with while we find your mum?" He asked in concern.

"Well, I suppose I could live with the Dursley's at number 4, or I could stay with Mrs Figgs, but she has a lot of cats to take care of, I wouldn't want to bother her," Alvah responded flatly.

He dipped his head. "Then, I will ask the Dursley's take care of you for now.”

"Alright," Alvah managed tiredly.

The police officer led the small boy across the street. He rapped at the window and stepped backwards, waiting for someone to answer. Inside the house, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s yelling rattled the walls as they ordered Harry to get the door.

Eventually, he obliged, slowly opening the front door, his glasses reflecting the sunlight while he squinted at you both. 

“Alvah!” Harry exclaimed, his green eyes brimming with worry. “Are you alright?”

"Well, the little lad here needs somewhere to stay for now. I'm afraid his mum has gone missing, and since he doesn't have any other relatives to take care of him, he needs a place to stay for a while." The police officer informed him.

Harry quickly mumbled a 'hold on' as he rushed over to his Aunt and Uncle, explaining what he was told.

Petunia stepped forward, her curly hair falling over her wrinkled forehead. She observed Harry’s friend for a moment, then faked a smile up at the police officer. "Of course, we'll let this young man stay with us. It would be incredibly cruel not to take care of someone in need."

She leant patronisingly to Alvah’s small height. "So, you're the neighbour that lives at number 8, aren't you?"

He nodded, slightly irritated by her attitude and false happiness.

"It’s a shame your mum has gone missing, she seemed like a kind woman,” she said, her voice condescending. “Well, we can look after you while this lovely officer investigates. Come on in! You can call me Aunt Petunia, this is my husband, Uncle Vernon!"

Vernon grunted down at him.

The police officer smiled politely. "Alright, lad. I'll leave you to it. I'll let you know if we hear  
anything about your mum. Also, I recommend reading the letter Mrs Figgs found near the crime scene, we had already dusted it for prints, but it was just your mother's. Since it is addressed to you, it would be wrong of me not to hand it to you."

Alvah took it out of his back pocket and flipped it, so it was facing the front. A familiar school badge was placed in the top left corner, underneath it in black ink; it clearly stated his name.

Before 'Aunt Petunia' could look down at it, he stuffed it back in his pocket.

The police officer left, closing the door behind himself.

Silence fell over everyone for a few moments and then 'Uncle Vernon' cleared his throat. "Alright, since you are going to be a guest, I want you to follow a few rules. Number one, no snooping around, number two, do not enter the master bedroom and number three stay in the guest room up to the stairs to the right."

Alvah nodded.

"Good lad, right. Do you want something to eat?" he asked respectfully.

It took Alvah off guard; he was expecting him to yell at him or something. "Uh, please. Yeah."

He nodded and left into the kitchen, telling his wife to help him dish out some of the leftovers.  
Alvah was so busy watching the odd couple floundering around in the kitchen; he hadn't noticed. Harry standing next to him and eyeing his slightly obscured letter curiously.

"Are you okay?" Harry stated.

Alvah turned his head to meet his piercing gaze, then nodded briefly.

He smiled slightly, his voice quiet. "I can look after you. I’m sorry about what happened, I thought something felt weird the day I came over."

Before the two of them could continue their conversation, Aunt Petunia had marched over to Alvah, holding a plate full of various buffet food. "Here you are!"

He took it gratefully from her. "Thanks!"

She nodded and gave a stern stare at Harry. "Also, don't forget that we’re having dinner with some very important people at 8 o'clock, Harry.”

Harry nodded quickly.

She smiled back over at you. "You can go up into the guest room if you like too. If you need  
anything, let us know. Harry can bring it up for you."

"Why Harry?" Alvah asked abruptly, the plate full of food still in his hands. "Why can't one of you two do it?"

Aunt Petunia wrinkled her forehead further. "Because we're busy! Don't be such an ungrateful little br-" she stopped herself and cleared her throat. "Just go to your guest room."

Reluctantly, Alvah obeyed her and walked upstairs, as he left he overheard Petunia  
complaining about the younger generations nowadays.

Harry trailed after him as he walked into his assigned spare room. Alvah opened the door and threw himself unceremoniously on the bed. Since Harry was very silent, Alvah hadn't heard him arrive alongside him.

“This letter must be what was meant to be in the envelope,” Alvah mumbled as he dug in his back pocket, taking out the peculiar letter. Alvah fiddled with it for a few moments and then his eyes flickered over the words.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**  
**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,**  
**Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**  
**Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall**  
**Deputy Headmistress**

  
He blinked a few times and then snorted, Harry sat down next to him, causing Alvah to fling the paper passed his face as he jumped. "When did you appear?" he exclaimed in shock at his stealth. "I didn't hear you come in."

Harry laughed a bit and then fixed his round glasses. "I'm surprised you didn't see me."

Alvah pursed his lips in thought, then cracked a grin. "Yeah, sorry. I was probably in my own little world; I have a habit of daydreaming."

Alvah grasped the letter that now laid beside Harry and lifted it to his face, rereading each word, confusion creasing his forehead. Harry shuffled slightly, and his eyes widened upon seeing the Hogwarts badge.

Alvah turned to him, clutching his stomach as he giggled. "This is a great prank! 'A school for wizards and witches.' Someone must have too much time on their hands.”

Harry's brow creased ever so slightly. "Mm," he grunted. “That must have been from the empty envelope.” He shook his head. “I'm just confused about how you received a letter like this when you're the same age as me. Surely, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let you take the second year without taking the first year."

Alvah blinked, stunned. "What? You're telling me that this is real? You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

The question he asked Harry was in a desperate tone. This had to be some weird dream or a cruel prank by his mum before she disappeared.

Harry regarded Alvah’s befuddled expression and then got up from the bed. "Hold on; I'll show you my acceptance letter."

Alvah nodded, feeling a little dazed. He watched as Harry left the room and gazed back at the letter, still squinting at it as if it would burst into flames before his eyes.

Harry came back a few moments later, a letter clutched in his hand. He sat beside Alvah and placed it on his lap, gazing back up at him. "See? I have one too."

Alvah looked down at it. It was the letter that must have been addressed to Harry last year. 

All those letters on Harry’s front porch, the owls… It all made sense to Alvah now.

He made eye contact with Harry, his bright green eyes observing yours. "Wizards and   
witches are real?" Alvah whispered as if it was a secret.

Harry nodded. "You must not tell my Aunt, Uncle or cousin about this. They hate people like us. You should keep that letter safe, and I'll be going back to Hogwarts soon anyway, so you can tag along if you need to have help being shown around."

"I’m not dreaming?" he questioned.

Harry smiled reassuringly. "No, when I was first admitted to Hogwarts, I thought I was too. A school for wizards and witches? It sounded unimaginable.”

"Yeah, it does," Alvah replied, his voice low.

"Did your mother never tell you?" Harry inquired.

"No, why? Do you think she is a witch?" Alvah excitedly asked.

"Not necessarily, your father could be one. I was just wondering if you knew if any of your relatives were wizards or witches. After all, to be accepted into Hogwarts, you have to have some magic running in your veins," Harry replied evenly.

Alvah thought about it for a few moments and then shrugged. "Well, my mum's never said anything about magic or the likes, but she always gets uncomfortable when I ask about my dad."

Harry leant back. "So, maybe your dad is a wizard? Did you never know him?"

Alvah shook his head. "No, I never even saw his face. My mum insisted he died in an accident when I was a few months old, but that's all."

Harry stared at him with empathy. "I didn't know my dad either. My mum and dad died when I was a baby. The person who killed them left me a scar on my forehead as a reminder."

Alvah’s dark gaze flickered down at his hands, then flickered briefly over Harry's scar, that not too long ago, Alvah believed to be a birthmark. "I'm sorry, Harry." He stared at his feet for a moment as he swung them over the bedside. Alvah grinned, playfully nudging Harry. "Well, maybe we can find out things about our parents together, then!"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like the update!


	4. The Daily Life of 4 Privet Drive

Alvah waited in the spare room, trying to process the past few days, but no matter how hard you searched his brain; he still couldn’t grasp everything that had happened. Then, a shrill voice broke his wandering thoughts, it seemed to be coming from Harry’s room. 

Fearing the worst, he rushed inside, only to find a funny looking creature with eyes the size of saucers hitting its head furiously against Harry’s window as it screamed. “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”

“Er, Harry…? What on earth is that?” Alvah squealed as the bat-eared creature continued slamming its head into the glass, seemingly unaware of Harry’s friend. 

“D- Dobby! Please stop!” Harry ushered, as quietly as he could muster. His green gaze sharply gawked up at Alvah. “It’s… It’s a little hard to explain.”

‘Dobby(?)’ turned around to face Alvah, his large eyes inspecting his face as his left ear flicked downwards, then his expression contorted into terror. “AAH!!” He shrieked. “A Muggle! Oh, what will Dobby do?!”

The small creature began rushing dangerously around the room as he screamed, his tiny arms waving wildly in the air; knocking numerous books and pictures off of Harry’s small bookshelf. Harry tried his best to quieten him, but it was futile. 

Thunderous footsteps banged upstairs and Alvah turned towards Harry. “I think Vernon’s coming!”

Harry looked around the room desperately, then without thinking clearly, Alvah grabbed hold of the bed covers and threw them over Dobby. He began squirming, then the door slammed open and a very red-faced Vernon stood in the entrance. “What is all this racket!” He hissed. “I told you to stay quiet!”

Harry awkwardly peered at Alvah as he struggled against the wriggling form underneath the blanket, he stepped in front of him offering a nervous smile. “We were…”

“Playing!” Alvah interjected. “We were playing…”

“Tag!” Harry finished for him.

“Tag?” Vernon grunted, then he raised a bushy eyebrow at Alvah. “I hope my nephew isn’t influencing you.”

“Oh, no, sir,” Alvah hurriedly replied, grabbing hold of the shuffling covers in an attempt to still Dobby. “It’s my fault. I just tried to hide in the covers, but slipped-” his eyes gilded around the mess all over the room. “I slipped, and knocked over all of Harry’s stuff.”

“..Right,” Vernon grumbled. “If I hear one more noise-”

“We will keep quiet,” Harry affirmed.

Vernon turned and stomped back downstairs, slamming the door behind him. Alvah released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and Harry scrambled over to the covers, dragging them off of Dobby. “Dobby-”

He cowered for a moment, and then Alvah’s eyes widened upon seeing numerous cuts and burns dotted around his small body; sure he looked… weird? But he seemed so fragile, someone would have to be messed up to do that to something so small.

Harry tried again, his voice soothing. “Dobby, this is my friend, Alvah.” He licked his lips nervously as he shifted closer to you. “He’s a wizard, like me,” he whispered.

“So, Dobby isn’t in trouble?” he asked, what you could call his lips, quivering.

“No,” Alvah replied comfortingly. “You’re not in trouble, Dobby.”

He relaxed slightly, then his giant eyes flickered onto Harry’s puzzled face. “Dobby has something to tell Harry Potter, it is very important.”

Harry nodded encouragingly. “Well, go on. I don’t mind if Alvah can hear too.”

Dobby glanced at him unsurely, then he cleared his throat. “Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later… Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.”

Harry’s face soured at the thought of staying with the Dursleys, then he stammered. “What?” 

Alvah blinked at Harry in confusion. “Uhh, did you get suspended or something? Do magic schools even give suspensions?”

  
“No, sir,” Dobby replied to him. “Harry Potter is not suspended, he must stay where it is safe.”

Harry stubbornly shook his head. “But I’ve got to go back — the term starts on September first, I need to show Alvah around. Besides that, it’s all that’s keeping me going, Hogwarts, I mean. You don’t know what it’s like here. I don’t belong here. I belong in your world — at Hogwarts.”  
  
Dobby covered his eyes with his tiny hands as his bare feet pattered against the floorboards. “There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make the most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year.” Dobby began shaking, his eyes nervously darting behind himself. Then he gazed back up at Harry. “Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!” 

“Terrible things…?” Alvah asked in befuddlement. “What kind of school is Hogwarts?”

  
Harry frowned. “It’s a little complicated,” he admitted. Then his attention fell back onto the funny looking creature. “Who’s plotting?”

Dobby made a strange sound with his throat, then he rushed over to the wall; repeatedly banging his head against it.

Alvah was really lost at this point, but he grabbed hold of Dobby and prevented him from hurting himself any more than he already had done. “Stop doing that! You're hurting yourself!”

“Dobby can’t, sir!” Dobby grumbled, trying to escape from his firm grasp, but he stilled when Harry approached him. 

“You can’t tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?” Harry inquired, his dark brows knitting together. “Hang on — this hasn’t got anything to do with Vol — sorry — with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod.”

Dobby slowly shook his head, his ears flopping from side to side. Not — not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir —” 

“Who?” Alvah added, gazing at Harry.

“Uh, I can tell you on the way to Hogwarts,” Harry replied. “Has You-Know-Who got a brother or something?”

“No!” Dobby cried suddenly. “Harry Potter can’t go back to Hogwarts!”

Before Alvah and Harry could stop the slippery fellow, he had picked up a lofty book and began slamming it over his head. Then Vernon’s unmistakable voice resounded downstairs. “Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!” 

“Harry..!” Alvah hissed as Dobby loudly wailed. “What do we do?!”

Without warning, Harry picked up Dobby with ease and shoved him into the wardrobe as Vernon stomped upstairs. It was almost as if lightning struck when he burst inside the room; he truly looked like a cartoon villain. “What the devil are you both doing up here?”

Harry meekly replied. “We were just-”

Then the wardrobe slightly opened, and he humorously pushed it closed again, although it was a very stubborn door.

“You’ve just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke…” Vernon snarled. 

Alvah frowned, Vernon’s jokes were seemingly just as disgusting as his personality.

“Sorry,” Harry replied, shutting the door as it attempted to pop open again.

Vernon rose one large finger into the air, his face going slightly red again.“One more sound and you’ll-” He paused, trying to calm his voice as he began looking at Alvah, who smiled sharply up at him. “You’ll be grounded.” Then he scowled as the wardrobe door creaked open again. “And fix that door!”

Like a grey cloud, Vernon stormed out of the room, his smart clothes now unfavourably creased. Once all went relatively quiet again - aside from the obnoxious sounds of the Dursleys - Harry opened the wardrobe, and Dobby came tumbling outside of it, his green eyes wide.

“See what it’s like here?” Harry seethed. “See why I’ve got to go back to Hogwarts? It’s the only place I’ve got — well, besides Alvah, I think I’ve got friends there.”

“Friends who don’t even write to Harry Potter?” replied Dobby, a sly smile playing on his mouth. 

“I expect they’ve just been — wait a minute,” said Harry, frowning. 

“Oh no,” Alvah mumbled as Harry shifted unhappily.

Harry continued. “How do you know my friends haven’t been writing to me?”

Dobby shuffled, drooping his head. “Harry Potter mustn’t be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best —”  
  
“Have you been stopping my letters?” Harry said, his voice rising slightly.

“Dobby has them here, sir,” he informed him. Stepping briskly out of Harry's grasp, from the inside of his pillowcase Dobby wore, he grabbed a large fistful of sealed envelopes. Harry squinted at one of the letters with neat writing squalled onto it, then his gaze flickered between some of the other letters, his jaw tensed.

“Harry Potter mustn’t be angry, Dobby hoped if Harry Potter thought his friends had  
forgotten him… Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir…” 

Alvah stepped in between them both. “Hold on, I don’t think it’s very fair you’ve kept his letters from him, Dobby.”

Dobby anxiously shifted, the stack of letters still clutched in his small hands. “Sir, doesn’t understand the dangers at Hogwarts. Harry Potter will not have them unless he gives Dobby his word that he will not return. This is a danger you must not face! Say you won’t go back, sir!” 

Harry shook his head, trying to rush at him; but he escaped his grasp and darted out of the room. Alvah raced after Dobby and Harry, as they rushed down the stairs, stopping close to the kitchen’s entrance as Vernon told another one of his unfunny jokes. A marvellous spectacle of a cake was seated close to the guests as they chortled, colours and various ribbons swirled around it.

“Dobby!” Alvah hissed. “Don’t.”

Dobby raised his hand, and the cake began levitating. “Harry Potter must say he’s not going back to school —”

Harry began gesturing wildly with his hands “Dobby get back here!”

Dobby shook his head. “Say it, sir —”  
  
“I can’t —” Harry stammered.

“Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter’s own good.” Dobby gave him an apologetic look, then snapped his fingers. With a loud splatter, the cake landed on the guest’s heads; both Harry and Alvah tried to reach out to stop it from falling, but it was too late. The guest’s prude faces were covered in the confection as Aunt Petunia took a deep intake of breath. Alvah felt his heart drop to his stomach.

Vernon apologetically murmured to the guests about how his nephew was ‘disturbed, which is why he kept in his room’. It made Alvah’s blood boil, Harry was the same age as him, and he was treating him like he was a deranged animal. 

Petunia had ushered the guests to a different room, mumbling excuses to them before they could start asking questions, then she returned and began scooping out some ice-cream from the freezer instead.

Did they know about Harry being magical?

Before Vernon could stomp over towards Harry, Alvah stepped in front of him defensively, his body rigid. “Leave him alone.”

Vernon’s eyebrows shot up like a rocket, then he turned redder than he ever had before. “How dare you twist this boy up!”

Harry flinched at his sharp words, then his bright green eyes landed on the unmoving Alvah. “If anyone’s twisted here, it’s you lot!” Alvah yowled. “Look at yourselves! Treating Harry like this! I could get you in serious trouble for this, you know? My mum told me that you neglect him.”

Petunia’s usual stone-like face became even harder - if that was possible. Then she walked over towards Alvah, her eyes lingering on his pocket, a piece of the Hogwarts logo was sticking out from it. She snatched the letter before he could protest, her face scrunching up in disgust. “You’re the same as him?”

“What?” Alvah growled, his voice cracking slightly.

“You won’t be needing this anymore,” Petunia stated coldly. 

The tearing of paper could be heard throughout the room as Dudley laughed, clearly amused by his mother’s abuse. Alvah’s fists clenched as Harry gawked at the pieces of paper as they floated towards the dirtied ground.

“You’re one of his freaky friends!” Dudley added unhelpfully. “No wonder your mum left.”

Alvah’s cheeks flushed pink, and he lurched forward towards Dudley, but before he could get to him, Harry had yanked him back. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Well, he certainly listened to you!” Vernon roared as he towered over the two of you. “You’ll both clean this mess up, and when you’re done, you both won’t be going anywhere.”

“But, what about his mum…?” Harry questioned, frowning furiously.

“The police are investigating it, right?” Petunia replied, her voice as sharp as nails on a chalkboard. “Well, he is under our protection, since we’re reasonable adults. He can not leave our home until his mother is found. No doubt about it, she’s just like the both of you anyway.”

Vernon shoved a mop and bucket into Harry’s and Alvah’s trembling hands. “Get to work! I don’t want to see a single crumb left!”

After half an hour of scrubbing, the guests had returned to the lounge and were looking rather on edge. Suddenly, a loud hooting caused Alvah to jolt, he craned his neck upwards and watched as a massive owl swooped down over the guest's heads and dropped a letter. 

Both of them rushed out screaming, ranting about how the Dursleys were all lunatics, then Vernon’s eyes had a devilish glint to them and he roared. “Read it.”

Harry picked it up, Alvah stepped close beside him, expecting an average letter, but instead, it came alive and shaped its folds into what looked like angular eyes. Then it spoke:

> _Dear Mr Potter_
> 
> _We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this_   
>  _evening at twelve minutes past nine. As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school. (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C)._
> 
> _We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by_   
>  _members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of_   
>  _the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy._
> 
> _Enjoy your holidays!_
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_   
>  _Mafalda Hopkirk_
> 
> _IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE Ministry of Magic_

The letter then proceeded to mutilate itself, spreading pieces of its paper all over the floor that Alvah and Harry had just cleaned. Vernon’s lips twitched upwards with vengeance. “You didn’t tell us you weren’t allowed to use magic outside school. Forgot to mention it… Slipped your mind, I daresay.” Like a great bulldog, he was encroaching on the two of them, all his teeth visible. “Well, I’ve got news for you, I’m locking both of you up… You’re never going to that school… never… and if you try and magic yourself out — they’ll expel you!” 

Alvah gripped one of Harry’s hands, as he fumbled backwards, gulping nervously. Vernon roared with laughter like a mad professor, then he grabbed hold of the two young wizards, dragging them upstairs. He shoved them in the same room and locked the door behind himself. 

Harry tumbled near the bed, and Alvah rolled close to a cage that was covered with a blanket. Alvah groaned as he rubbed the back of his head and squinted, scrambling to his feet and helping Harry up. “Are you alright Harry?” he offered.

Harry nodded, briefly nursing his most likely bruised elbows, then he examined the room, his brows knitted together. “Wait a minute… Where are you meant to sleep!” Harry mumbled.

Alvah’s expression fell. “Harry.”

“What?”

“I think that’s the least of our concerns right now.”

Harry let out a sigh. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“We could climb out of the window?” Alvah offered.

A loud squawking interrupted his idea as something moved behind the blanket. Harry rushed over to the cage’s side. “Hedwig!” he murmured, pulling the covering off of the birdcage, revealing something that most definitely was not a cockatoo.

“Huh,” Alvah said, leaning back on the bed with a grin. “That’s an odd-looking cockatoo.”

Blood rushed to Harry's cheeks, and his green eyes peered at anything else other than Alvah. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't think you were... like me before. It would’ve been a bit awkward trying to explain why I had an owl."

Alvah giggled a little and in spite of the horrible circumstances, Harry started to chuckle with him as Hedwig shook her exquisite feathers, splaying them as she washed them. “Can I pet her?” Alvah asked.

Harry’s eyes brightened. “Yeah! Of course, just try doing slow movements though. She can be a little skittish.”

Alvah grinned brightly, as if he had unwrapped a big gift at Christmas, and then as slowly as he could, he reached out his hand toward the cage. Hedwig slowly closed her eyes as he felt her soft feathers on his fingertips.

“It looks like she likes you,” Harry beamed.

"She's gorgeous," Alvah exclaimed as she resumed cleaning her sharp talons.

The creak of leather shoes shuffled outside the door, then opened, and a ripped sleeping bag was thrust inside the room; the door suddenly slammed again, the chink of metal rattling as it was locked. Vernon's pleased voice echoed on the landing. "Now they can't get their freaky mates out of this one, can they?”

Vernon's shadow slid away from the small crack under the door, muttering about how Harry was a mistake. Alvah's nose crinkled in disdain, and then his golden-brown eyes came back to his friend, observing his humiliated expression. Clasping and unclasping his hands, Alvah joined Harry's side of the bed and gave him a comforting pat on his back. "It could have been worse, Harry."

“How could it possibly be any worse?” Harry grumbled unhappily.

“You could’ve been stuck here on your own.”


	5. Towards The Moon

Sunlight crept through the windows, a brilliant blue sky overhead; but something loud stirred through the tiny room, the silence invaded by a terrible bang “What is that?” Alvah gulped, jumping upwards, his throat dry; some dry drool dripping from the side of his mouth, where he had spent the rough night leaning his face on the uncomfortable sleeping bag.

Harry rubbed his eyes, then scrambled around for his glasses, squinting outside. The magnificent sky had been blurred by lines of shadows; Alvah could not believe what he was witnessing. Vernon was on the outside of the window hammering in jail bars into the wall.

“You’ll never go back to Hogwarts!” Vernon roared as he grimaced at Harry. “NEVER!”

He climbed down the ladders, fading out of view again as Harry sighed sadly. 

Alvah frowned. “No way am I letting him get away with this!”

“He already has,” Harry added. “There’s no way we could leave the room anyway, and it’s not like I’m allowed to cast magic, since I’m underage.”

Alvah paced, his pyjama pants flowing behind him. “There has to be some way out of this…” His gaze landed on the dejected Harry. “Sorry for asking this Harry, but you mentioned how your parents passed away?”

Harry sadly dipped his head.

“Do you mind me asking who made you stay here?” 

He frowned for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m guessing the Dursleys took me in themselves since they wanted to appear good.”

“Something just doesn’t add up,” Alvah sighed, running a hand through his bed-head. “The Dursleys have made it very clear how much they hate wizards and witches, it just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“It doesn’t to me either,” Harry replied. “But, I guess it’ll be another thing I will find out, I can add it to the long list of things I don’t understand.”

“Hold on,” Alvah interjected, turning towards the door. “Is that a bloody cat-flap?!”

A shoddily made cat-flap has been mounted on the wood at the bottom of the door. As two tins of soup were shoved through the opening, it rattled like a snake.

They were ice-cold.

As he heard her run down the stairs, Alvah began shouting profanities at Petunia, but instead of slinging insults, Harry picked up the soup in his shaking hands and demolished it in one go, saving Hedwig the pitiful vegetables at the bottom of it.

“This is abuse!” Alvah shouted, his face reddening. “This is absolutely disgusting.”

Harry mumbled casually, "I'm used to it," prompting Alvah to make a funny squeak of annoyance at this blatant mistreatment. Harry eyed the other tin hungrily. " Will you have yours?"

Alvah stared between Hedwig and Harry, although his stomach growled eagerly, he moved the soup towards Harry. “Here, you can have mine.”

“But-”

“It's all right, Harry," stated Alvah, his dark brown eyes burning with resentment at the Dursleys. "I prefer you to eat, Hedwig and you need it more than I do."

Harry reluctantly took Alvah's cold soup and drank it all with the exception of the tiny traces at the base of the metal which he filled Hedwig's bowl with. Her bright, wide eyes glared at Harry, and she hooted at the lack of food in dissatisfaction. “It’s no good turning your beak up at it — that’s all we’ve got,” he said grimly. 

Alvah sat down beside his friend again and watched as Hedwig pecked at the small piece of food, his body shaking from rage. “How long has this been happening for?”

Harry leant back from Hedwig’s cage, itching at his strange-shaped scar. “Since forever… but this is the worst it has been by far.”

Alvah’s knuckles had begun to shade white as he clenched them tightly into balls; then a loud bang echoed from downstairs, following the surprised yells of the Durlseys. Blinking, he observed Harry. “What was that?”

Harry laughed slightly, his green eyes landing on Alvah. “I think that was you.”

“Oh dear,” Alvah mustered, although he honestly didn’t care too much if the Dursleys had gotten hurt. 

Vernon’s and Petunia’s voice’s yowled downstairs, something about the microwave blowing up. Alvah’s lips twitched upwards as he leant back. “Well, if it was me, at least they’ll have to have cold soup too now.”

Harry giggled, moving slightly closer to him, then it faltered, the realisation settling in that they would probably be like this for another four weeks. His bright gaze fell to his hands, and he rubbed a hand through his messy black hair. “Sorry.”

“Huh?” Alvah replied.

“It’s my fault you’re in this mess with me,” Harry muttered. “If it wasn’t for me-”

“No, no, no!” Alvah shook his head swiftly. “Harry! Don’t ever blame yourself. If we didn’t end up in this situation together, I probably would have been taken away, since my mum isn’t around, at the moment. Being here with you… Even if your relatives are a little, uh-”

“Nuts?” Harry helpfully responded.

“Yeah, even if they are nuts, I’d prefer keeping you company - and I mean, without you, I wouldn’t have even known that magic exists,” Alvah informed him, beaming.

“Thanks,” Harry said simply. 

The room grew darker and darker, but their conversations about magic kept their minds off of the horrible conditions they were stuck in. Eventually, they both somehow fell asleep, even if Alvah’s complaining stomach sometimes woke them both up with a fright. 

Alvah’s dreams consisted of a bizarre concoction of colours at first; mostly a green haze. Then voices of many people began whispering, their words intermingling chaotically, leaving no space in between - Alvah’s body was frozen, his feet glued in place by ice.

He struggled against it, tried to scream out - but remained powerless and silent as large yellow eyes towered over his shaking body, a strange language murmuring throughout the empty void. The creature recoiled back its humongous head, ready to attack, but something soft was thrown forcefully onto Alvah’s face, stirring him awake. 

“Wha-?” Alvah gulped, his lips dry. His brown eyes flickered upwards viewing Harry as he breathed heavily, grabbing hold of the sealed window, attempting to yank it open. “Harry?! What are you doing?”

“Shush!” Harry hissed. “Help me out!”

Unsure of what was going on, Alvah's head was still spinning like a top as he and Harry managed to open it a smidgen. Then a ginger-haired lanky boy, who evidently had feline skills easily hopped on the inside of the sheet of metal outside, then someone else leaned out of what resembled a flying car?

Alvah was still dreaming - he had to be.

Except for his ginger hair, which was slightly more side-swept, the other person looked identical to him.

As the dude on the outside of the window started working on the lock of the jail bars, a shiny hairpin glinted in the moonlight. He casually looked up and cracked a toothy smile. "All right?” He asked, unphased. "We're just going to grab Harry and your things, and we're going to be able to get out of this ruddy place."

“Harry,” Alvah sleepily grumbled. “What’s happening?”

Harry told him excitedly, "This is George and Fred, they're going to help us get into Hogwarts.” Alvah noticed how exhausted he looked. "That's Ron - in a, uh, car."

“Okay,” Alvah nonchalantly replied, his mind slowly melting as he attempted to process the flying vehicle.

“A lot of wizards think it’s a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick,” Fred said, as hands lingering on the wheel. “But we feel they’re skills worth learning, even if they are a bit slow.” 

“Done!” George enthused, as the jail bars slipped loose. “So — we’ll get your trunk — you two grab anything you need from your room and hand it out to Ron.”

“Look out for the lower step," Harry whispered as the tall shape of George disappeared into the dark landing. "It creaks.”

Harry collected his books, rushing around his room as fast as a hare and scurrying towards the car, shoving his items in Ron’s grasp. “Come on,” Harry hurriedly beckoned. “Aren’t you going to get some stuff?”

Alvah shook his head. “All my stuff is mainly at my house, Harry. It’s alright, I can always get some extra things when we go to Hogwarts, right?” 

Harry’s expression flooded with guilt. “I can’t just leave you without anything. We’ll have to see if we can get your stuff before we leave.”

Vernon’s distinctive coughs and grumbles sounded from the master bedroom and Harry gazed back at the door. “I’ll go and help George with my trunk, hold on here, okay?”

Alvah nodded, as he collected some of Harry’s possessions from his wardrobe and passed them to Ron, his baby blue eyes curiously watching him. “Aren’t you Harry’s neighbour?”

“Yeah,” Alvah said awkwardly. “How’d you know?”

“Last year, Harry told us a little bit about you,” Ron admitted, placing Harry’s present from Alvah on his lap, he gave the small toy wizard a funny look, then smiled. “He said that you and your mum helped him out a little bit, when the Dursleys were being horrible to him again - thanks for looking out for my mate.”

Alvah smiled widely. “It’s alright, I’m called Alvah.”

“Ron, but you already knew that,” he replied confidently as footsteps and huffing carefully waded upstairs. “That must be George and Harry. We can’t stay here much longer.”

“I’ll go and give them a hand,” Alvah briskly said, quietly opening the door and reaching over to Harry’s massive trunk. 

George and Harry wrestled with it as Alvah gripped at one of the other ends, hoisting its lofty weight towards the window - Vernon coughed once again.

“A little more," Fred wheezed, grabbing it through the car window, as Alvah helped inched it further towards him. “One good push," Harry and George threw their shoulders against the trunk and slid into the car's back seat from the window.

“Okay, let’s go,” George whispered as he jumped over the window, safely back into the confines of the vehicle. 

Harry hurried after him, then a loud screech sounded behind Alvah, followed by a thunderous voice - it was Vernon. The landing light switched on, elongating the angry Durlseys shadow through the door.

**“THAT BLOODY PIGEON!”**

“I’ve forgotten Hedwig!” Harry panicked.

Alvah twisted his body around like a cat, grasping Hedwig’s cage and passing it to Harry as the locks on the door twisted. He scrambled onto the chest of drawers, to give himself more momentum, then, as heavy as a tidal wave, the door crashed open.

Harry finally placed Hedwig’s cage in the back of the car and reached out to him. “Come on!” he yelled, leaning out of the window. “Hurry up!”

Alvah gripped his hand tightly as if he was a lifeline, but just as he was about to scramble inside, a rough force had a tight hold on one of his ankles - Vernon’s snarling face stared up at him. “Petunia!” He howled. “They’re getting away! HE’S GETTING AWAY!” 

“Get off him!” Harry yowled, attempting to tug Alvah towards the passenger seat, but Vernon’s grasp was as tight as a bear trap as he tried to yank him backwards.

Alvah’s curly hair wildly blew in several directions as he struggled against him - acting on impulse, Alvah slammed his free foot into Vernon’s face with such force it caused him to tumble out of the window, he screamed out as he hit the floor below.

Harry closed the car door behind Alvah as he tumbled inside, his hair wild. “Is he alright?” he breathed fretfully, believing he had accidentally killed Harry’s Uncle.

Fred leant out of the window, then he cracked a cheeky grin. “He’s alright, mate. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

"Put down your foot, Fred!” Ron cried, and the car immediately accelerated toward the stars.

“What about his stuff?” George asked, turning his head. “Alvah will have nothing when he goes to Hogwarts with us.”

“We can’t go to his house now,” Fred replied apologetically. “It’s too risky, Vernon will try and stop us again.”

Harry peered at Alvah as he fixed his muddled hair. “It’s okay,” he said breathlessly, watching as his house slowly faded into the distance. “I can work something out.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief then he smiled. “WE will work something out, together.”

“Together!” The twins laughed as they headed towards the moon.


	6. Family Reunions

Alvah’s head lolled against the glass as the three wizards spoke with another in hushed voices, trying their best not to wake him up. Outside, Hedwig soared gracefully, her yellow eyes filled with bliss as she was finally able to stretch out her magnificent wings; breathing in the chilly air.

Harry’s slightly raised voice caused him to stir as he spoke. “What, you think he was lying to me?”

“Well,” said Fred, his hands lazily draped over the wheel. “put it this way — house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can’t usually use it without permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone’s idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?” 

“Yes,” Ron and Harry exclaimed in unison.

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry sighed, his green eyes flooding with annoyance at whoever this person was.

“Who?” Alvah grumbled groggily. 

“I’m sure you’ll find out,” Ron grunted. “He’s a right prat, he takes after his dad; at least that’s what I’ve heard from mine...”

“Lucius Malfoy?” Fred added thoughtfully. “I heard he supports You-Know-Who, what if he had something to do with it?”

“I don’t know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf…” said Harry.

“Well, it will definitely be an old wizarding family, and they’ll be rich,” said Fred.

“Yeah, Mum’s always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing.” George gestured with his hands as he spoke. “But all we’ve got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House Elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn’t catch one in our house…” 

Alvah’s forehead creased as he tried to understand anything they were all talking about. “Who’s You-Know-Who?”

“Oh,” Harry said simply. “Uh, he’s, uh-”

“He’s a dark wizard,” George helpfully answered for him. “We call him You-Know-Who, since saying his real name apparently could curse the person speaking it. Harry had a run-in with him when he was a baby.”

“He’s the one who must have…” Alvah stopped himself from completing his sentence, peering down at his shoes. “Sorry Harry.”

Harry glanced over at Alvah. “It’s okay. There’s a lot of stuff we didn’t know about in first-year, so I think it’s better if you know about it.”

“I wanted to ask too,” Alvah murmured. “Are house-elves kind of like butlers and maids?”

“Sort of,” Ron replied. 

Fred filled Alvah in for him since he looked even more confused than before. “They aren’t allowed to leave the house they occupy unless the family they work for take them outside with permission. They basically do the chores and run errands. ”

“Oh, alright,” Alvah said, pondering if they got paid for their work — Dobby sure looked worse for wear though. He noticed all of the small bruises and cuts on him if he worked for the Malfoy family, they treated him horribly, that’s for certain.

“Yeah, a lot of weird stuff has been happening since last year, but something else I heard,” George interjected, leaning his arm on the cupholder. “It’s that Lucius Malfoy is a supporter of You-Know-Who. When he disappeared, Lucius Malfoy came back saying he’d never meant any of it. A load of crap — Dad reckons he was right in You- Know-Who’s inner circle.” 

“So the Malfoy’s are bad?” Alvah questioned.

“Yes,” Harry said heatedly, then his voice became quieter. “Well, at least Draco Malfoy is. I’ve never met his dad, but he doesn’t sound that great either.”

“Oh, okay,” Alvah replied, nodding. “Should I avoid him then, at school - I mean.”

Ron laughed a little. “Avoid him? I wouldn’t even look at him. Draco thinks he’s better than everyone else. On our first day, he wanted Harry to join him and said something about him knowing ‘the right sort.’ He’s a bloody stuck-up.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Alvah answered. “He sounds kind of similar to the rich kids at my Primary School, but I suppose it would be a bit different since he has magic and all.” He pondered if he would be turned into a frog or something, since bullies didn’t just have to use verbal or physical means.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much, mate,” George offered, amiably. “If he does give you any trouble, me and Fred will sort him out.”

A few moments passed in silence, then Ron turned back to Harry, his bright eyes creased as he smiled. “I’m glad we came to get you, anyway,” said Ron. “I was getting really worried when you didn’t answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol’s fault at first —”

“Who’s Errol?” Harry asked, at least Alvah wasn’t the only one slightly behind on understanding the conversation.  
  
“Our owl. He’s ancient. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes —”  
  
“Who?”

“The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect,” said Fred from the Front. “But Percy wouldn’t lend him to me,” said Ron. “Said he needed him.” 

The rest of the conversation petered out as Alvah’s eyes fluttered closed again - utterly exhausted from everything that had happened. He wondered where his mum was, or if he’d even see her again.

His curly, dark chestnut hair swayed as the wind from the slightly ajar window shifted through it, Hedwig’s chirps occasionally entering into his half-asleep mind as she fluttered alongside the flying car. Pink clouds whizzed by as Fred murmured something about being nearly there, the engine purring like an old cat as the vehicle trailed down towards a giant stretch of farmland.

Daybreak stretched across the horizon, small beams of light hitting against the trees. 

“Woah!” Alvah exclaimed, his eyes as large as plates. He gazed down at a very peculiar building, from what he could tell - it was once a large stone pigpen, but there were additional rooms piled haphazardly on top of it's chaotic silhouette. Four or five chimneys were strung on the sloping roof. 

Alvah pondered if the house was magical, excitement swelled inside him as he began feeling a little giddy at the idea of meeting more people like Harry. He peered at the twins as they spoke excitedly to one another. “Is this Hogwarts?” Alvah questioned.

Fred laughed, shaking his head. “No mate, this is way too small to be Hogwarts. It’s our home, look down there!”

He pointed out of the window towards a large lopsided sign that read THE BURROW next to the entry on the grounds.

Alvah’s tan skin became slightly pink as he nodded. “Oh, of course, it’s your house.”

It was the largest house he’d ever seen - that’s for sure!

“Touchdown!” Fred exclaimed as the car hovered lowly, eventually landing on the floor with a slight thump. “Here we are then.”

Fred pulled in, next to a rundown garage, located just outside of the house - near the clucking hens. Fred’s bones cracked as he stood up and got out of the vehicle, loudly yawning as he shut the door. “Well, what are you all waiting for?”

Alvah turned to his side, noticing Harry’s already very bright eyes had become even brighter. “Is this your first time seeing their house, Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, his voice trembling slightly in awe.

“It’s not much,” Ron stated casually as he stepped near his two much taller brothers. “But it’s home.”

“Not much-!” Alvah gasped. “It’s incredible!”

“My sentiments exactly,” Harry agreed, leaving the car.

Fred grinned down at Ron, Harry and Alvah. “Now then, we all need to be reaaally quiet when we go inside and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, ‘Mum, look who turned up in the night!’ and she’ll be all pleased to see Harry and his new small friend! No one will ever know we flew the car.” 

“About that-” Alvah interjected in a small whisper. “Uh, is that your mother?”

All eyes fell on her, she was quite short and round, her eyes creasing in a kindly way as she spread feed for the hens. 

“Oh dear,” George uttered.

Thinking fast, Alvah shoved them all behind a bush - Harry grunted as he landed on his rear end. “What’re you doing?”

“Just… just follow my lead,” Alvah muttered.

Fred and George exchanged glances with one another, a smirk playing on their lips. “Well now,” George murmured, leaning down near Alvah. “I think we’re going to become good friends, you’re a little minx, aren’t you?”

Alvah flattened his fringe down on his head, picking out a leaf or two from his hair, his face reddening slightly. They all waited behind Alvah, as Mrs Weasley frowned in confusion at the car, then stormed inside the house. He peered at the other boys behind him. “Right, let’s rush to the back of the house! We might be able to avoid her.”

“Okay, sir!” George and Fred laughed, getting a head start.

Ron and Harry trailed behind Alvah, finally entering into what looked like the kitchen, except it was definitely not ordinary. Dishes were washing themselves in the sink, and what looked to be knitting needles were threading a jumper on the well used, plump red couch. 

“Blimey,” Alvah uttered, as Harry gazed around the room, his glasses misting over slightly. 

“This is amazing,” Harry whispered. Alvah smiled gently at him, then leant forward wiping some of the fog from his lenses. “Oh, thanks,” he said shyly.

A clock chimed, causing Harry and Alvah to peer at it. It had the faces of all of the Weasley family on the different hour and minute hands, with crude writing scribbled on each hour for different chores and appointments, the strong smell of freshly baked cakes and doughnuts wafted through the large, but cramped room.

Ron eagerly reached out to one of the confectionery goods, picking it up without a second thought. He paused and looked at his older brothers. “Do you think it’d be alright if we had some of this?”

“Yeah, mum will never know,” Fred replied, following Ron’s initiative, and stuffing sugary goodness into his mouth. “Want some?” He offered to Harry and Alvah, his mouth still full.

“Oh, no thanks.” Harry politely refused as he wandered around their house, gazing at the assortment of other magical objects.

“I will,” Alvah said enthusiastically, taking hold of some of the food and munching on it. “I haven’t eaten anything for two days, I’m starving.”

  
“We should go upstairs,” Fred stated, walking past the kitchen. “Come on, before mum comes in.”

Harry glanced at Alvah in guilt for a moment, then Ron scowled as they all headed towards the steps. “You’ve not eaten for two days? How’re you both still alive?”

“Well, actually Alvah gave me some of his food,” Harry explained gratefully. “But… he didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alvah replied, hungrily taking a ravenous bite out of his doughnut. “It’s fine. His relatives are really cruel.”

“Speaking of relatives,” Fred sighed as his mother stormed in.

"Morning, mum," George said in a rakish, triumphant tone. 

**“WHERE... HAVE... YOU... BEEN?!”** Mrs Weasley roared, each word becoming squeakier than the last. “Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?”

Her kind, relaxing demeanour from before had shifted into something more of a ferocious tiger, her eyes piercing through her three children.

Ron attempted to interject. “Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —” 

All three of her sons were considerably taller than she was, but they all cowered as her rage exploded like a volcano.

“Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry —  
did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we  
never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —”

“Perfect Percy.” Fred rolled his eyes.

“YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” Mrs Weasley howled, poking Fred's chest with her index finger. "You could die, you could be seen, you could lose your father's job—"

Ron gulped, trying to reason. “They were starving them, Mum! There were bars on Harry’s window!”

“You best hope I don't put bars on your window, Ronald Weasley!” She lectured, Fred and George peered at one another, their eyes wide. Then she switched her attention to Harry and Alvah, they scrambled back - Alvah prepared himself to have his ears chewed out, but then her expression completely softened upon seeing Harry. “Harry! How wonderful to see you. I don't blame you, of course, dear.”

Harry quietly nodded, then she stared at Alvah, her eyebrows raised. “And who’s this?”

“He’s my friend,” Harry said without missing a beat. “He stayed with me, at the Dursleys. His mum went missing, so he has nowhere to go.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mrs Weasley gasped, placing one of her hands on Alvah’s face and gently stroking her thumb briefly over his cheek. “Don’t you worry. You’re more than welcome to stay with us. Would you both like a spot of tea? I’ll be making breakfast.”

“Yes, please,” Harry and Alvah said in unison, Alvah was certain his stomach had started eating itself.

“Come along then,” she said, ushering the two of them over to the polished wooden table next to the kitchen. “Sorry about the mess,” she sighed, removing some of the deserts off of it and placing them on the worktop. “You can have these later.”

Fred, George and Ron joined Alvah and Harry at the table, who was currently nervously fiddling with some of the napkins as Mrs Weasley clattered around the kitchen, casting spells on the dirty plates so they carried on cleaning themselves. Alvah watched in amazement, still believing he was dreaming.

“Arthur and I have been worried about you, Harry,” Mrs Weasley said as she did a balancing act between cooking the sausages and frying the eggs in a separate pan. “Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really, “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —”

“It was cloudy, Mum!” Fred retorted. 

“You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” she chastised as the dishes continued washing themselves.

“Also, Ron’s right, mum. They WERE starving them!” George explained.

“And you too!” Mrs Weasley replied, but her voice cracked slightly, as she gazed over at Harry and Alvah. She started cutting them both slices of bread, buttering it for them.

Pitter-pattering of feet rushed down the creaky stairs, then a girl emerged, stopping halfway on the steps. She had long ginger hair, bright emerald eyes and a heart shaped face, but she was small - like her mother. Alvah glanced up at her as she leant over the bannister. “Mummy, have you seen my jumper -?”

Mrs Weasley was plating all of the food and putting it in front of all of the young boys. Before she could answer her daughter, the girl paused, resembling a deer caught in the headlights as Harry turned to look at her, offering a friendly. “Hello!” 

She hurried back upstairs, grabbing her nightgown so it didn’t trail on the floor. Fred and George giggled, then peered at Ron as he stuffed his face full of the sausages and eggs. “Ginny,” he said, looking at Alvah. He nodded as he continued eating. She’s been talking about you all summer, Harry. Dead annoying, really.”

  
"Yeah, she's going to want your autograph, Harry," added Fred, grinning, but he met his mother's eyes and bowed his face over his food, growing silent. Nothing else was said before all five plates were clean, which took a remarkably short time.

"Blimey, I'm tired," exclaimed Fred, putting his cutlery down at last. "I think I'm going to head off to bed and—"

"You're not," snapped Mrs Weasley. "It's your own fault that you've been up all night. You're going to de-gnome the garden for me; they're going to get out of control again—"

“De-what the garden?” Alvah questioned, suddenly. “Sorry, but did you just say gnome? Do you have a lot of statues of them or something?”

George sniggered as Mrs Weasley offered a sweet smile. “Oh, no, dear. They’re a bit of a pest. Hmm, think of things like snails and slugs in the Muggle World.”

“What’s a Muggle?” Alvah asked, feeling stupider by the second as Fred joined George in having a giggling fit.

Mrs Weasley chucked a wet towel at them, it slapped against Fred’s face, so naturally George started laughing at his brother instead. “Now, stop it, you two!” Mrs Weasley stated hotly. “Harry’s friend is obviously new to all of this, so all of this could be quite a bit of a shock to him.” She cleared her throat then continued. “Muggles are what we call people who don’t have magic.”

“Humans?” Alvah added. “Okay. I’m guessing the dictionaries in the wizarding worlds are much loftier than...uh- muggle ones.”

“Not really,” Mrs Weasley helpfully explained. “There are just a few phrases here and there that are different from muggles. It’s mainly all of the creatures and spells you will need to learn about, but Hogwarts can teach you all sorts of things - the library there is huge.”

Alvah beamed, imagining large wooden bookshelves with thousands of colourful books, full of pictures and descriptions of creatures he hadn’t even dreamt of, or doodled in his sketchbook - the realization he left it at home, alongside his favourite book ‘The Books of Magic by Neil Gaiman’, hit him hard. What would he read at night before going to bed?

“Are you alright, dear?” Mrs Weasley offered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Alvah nodded. “It’s just- most of my stuff is still at my house, so I don’t really have any clothes to wear or anything.”

Mrs Weasley looked disheartened, then she glowed at him. “How about you borrow some of George’s old clothes? They don’t fit him anymore - so I’m sure he won’t mind, will you, dear?”

George grumbled something under his breath as he leant his head on one of his hands, eyebags becoming very visible under his lower lids. 

“Well, that’s that settled,” she said, smiling thoughtfully. “I can help you pack before you set off.”

Alvah peered up at her, his lips upturned. “Thank you.” She reminded him slightly of his own mum. Then he realized he hadn’t even told her his name. “Oh, uh - I’m called Alvah Laverne, by the way.”

“What a lovely name,” Mrs Weasley said softly. “Oh, you and Harry can go to sleep, if you like? After all, you didn’t ask them to fly that wretched car —” 

Harry didn’t seem tired in the slightest as he answered her. “I’ll help Ron. I’ve never seen a de-gnoming—” 

“Ooh! I’d like to help too!” Alvah said although he was feeling particularly sleepy.

“That’s very sweet of you both, dearies, but it’s dull work,” she replied. “Now, let’s see  
what Lockhart’s got to say on the subject —” 

She took a thick book out of the stack on the mantelpiece. George began groaning.

“Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden —” 

Alvah glanced over her shoulder, curiously eyeing the book. The words Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests were printed over it in big fancy gold letters. There was a big picture on the front of a very handsome wizard with wispy fair hair and piercing blue eyes. Then the strangest thing Alvah had ever seen happened, the photograph of the wizard...moved. He gave a wink to the camera - an air of self-righteousness accumulated around who Alvah presumed was Gildroy Lockhart. 

“Is that-” Alvah tried.

“Is it what, mate,” George asked, clearly amused.

“Is that moving? The picture - I mean,” Alvah blurted. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” George joked.

“Oh, stop tormenting him,” Mrs Weasley replied, reluctantly moving her eyes off of the smug Gildroy Lockhart - would it even still be classed as a picture, since it was moving? “Yes, dear. Nearly all of the photographs move in the papers, and in most books.”

“That’s creepy,” Alvah murmured. 

Harry chuckled slightly at him as he visibly recoiled. “It’s not cursed or anything.”

“Oh-” Alvah stammered. “I know that.”

“Oh, he is marvellous though,” Mrs Weasley said dreamily. “He knows his household pests, all right, it’s a wonderful book…”

“Mum fancies him,” Fred murmured, leaning closer to Alvah, although it was very audible.

“I gathered,” Alvah replied nonchalantly.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, Fred and stop influencing Alvah!” Mrs Weasley retorted, her cheeks tinting pink. “All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there’s a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it.” 

Yawning and moaning, the Weasleys slouched out with Harry and Alvah a short distance away from them. The garden was humongous—there were loads of unruly weeds, and the grass needed to be trimmed. Twisted trees clung to the walls, plants that Alvah had never seen pouring from every vegetable patch, even some of the flowers looked different from the ones back from his home. He stopped a few feet away from a large green pond full of frogs.

Alvah was slightly afraid of frogs, so he kept at a safe distance.

“Muggles have garden gnomes, too, you know,” Harry stated to the far-away Ron as he trekked by the lawn with him and Alvah.

“Yeah, I’ve seen those things they think are gnomes,” Ron replied groggily, bending down near a peony bush, “like fat little Santa Clauses with fishing rods…” 

Alvah giggled. “Actually, they kind of do resemble Santa Clause - at least you still have Christmas and the holidays in your world.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ron said excitedly. “Of course we still have Christmas.”

“Y’know, my grandma used to be obsessed with gnomes - not your gnomes. The, er, muggle ones,” Alvah explained happily as he stuck close to Harry. “I was really young when she passed away, but I always remember her putting party hats on them and placing them on my window, outside. She was a very strange lady.”

Harry and Ron giggled, then Ron stared at him, his blue eyes filling with curiosity. “Was your Gran a witch?”

“I don’t know,” Alvah said truthfully. “My mum never said anything about your world. I didn’t even know that magic existed until Harry met me.”

“What about your dad, then?” Ron inquired, peeping over a shrub.

“Never met him,” Alvah said. “At least, I don’t think I did. I can’t really remember much about him, to be honest.”

Ron’s eyebrows raised in intrigue. “So, you never knew your dad? Sorry, mate. That’s a bit sad, isn’t it?”

Alvah gave a half-hearted shrug. “I guess? To be honest, although I’d have liked to know a bit more about him, I’m quite happy with just me and my mum.” His words trailed off, remembering that she had gone missing.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Mrs Weasley’s soothing voice encroached behind the boys, although she sounded slightly out of breath. “You’re always welcome to stay with us.”

“Thank you,” Alvah said, his voice small. 

“You too, Harry,” Mrs Weasley affirmed, twigs clinging to some of the strands of her ginger hair. “You’ll never go hungry when I’m around, that’s for sure.”

A distant George yelled out. “She’d feed you to death, Harry!”

“Oh, stop it,” Mrs Weasley sighed, picking out the stray leaves with her fingers. “Those stupid gnomes keep getting away from me.”

“Uh, mum,” Ron squeaked, leaning down near a thorny bush. “I think I found one.”

Alvah and Harry exchanged glances, then leant down, watching as Ron tugged something out of the earth; it definitely didn’t look like what Alvah expected.

It wriggled its horned feet around in Ron’s grasp, its voice as raspy as an old man’s. “Gerroff me! Geroff me!” It had a big, knobby, bald, wrinkled look to its skin, just like a potato. Ron kept it at arms length; he grabbed its ankles and turned the bizarre-looking creature upside down.

“That’s a gnome?” Alvah squeaked, as his golden-brown eyes glistened with curiosity. 

  
“Sure is,” Ron gulped, trying to stabilize it. 

“Are you going to kill it?” Alvah asked bluntly.

It yowled out as Ron lifted it above his head, almost as if he was using it to aid him balancing.

“No! Don’t be silly, we’re not going to kill it,” Ron informed him. “We’re just going to spin it around and chuck it over the hedge.”

“So… the same as killing it?” Harry added, much to the amusement of Alvah  
  
Ron dramatically rolled his eyes, then began twirling the poor thing around, almost like a lasso - then he threw it forcefully over the shrubs - a distant thud echoed, alongside a groan.

“Now what?” Alvah asked.

“Well, it won’t be able to find its way back to the gnome hole,” Ron replied simply.

“A… gnome hole…?” Alvah inquired, trying not to giggle at the strange wording.

“Yep! Hopefully, it will leave the field alone now,” Ron stated gleefully.

Fred marched over, his brother following close to the side of him. “Oh c’mon,” Fred said. “Surely, you can do better than that!”

“Here!” George enthusiastically exclaimed, as he forcefully placed a gnome in Alvah’s hands. “I bet he can do a better job than you.”

“Me?” Alvah questioned as Harry chuckled to the side of him. His eyes fell upon the ‘gnome’ as it squirmed and mumbled (Geroff me! Geroff me!) “Uh - isn’t this a bit harsh - lobbing them across the field?”

“Nah,” George stated casually, curling his arms around his chest. “They go wander off and find somewhere else to live, it stops them from munching on our plants.”

They’re just like slugs and snails! 

Mrs Weasley’s words echoed in Alvah’s head, and he started feeling slightly guilty - the image of him throwing a defenseless snail over a gate crossing his mind.

“Can’t we just walk far away and put it down after spinning it?” Alvah suggested.

“Walk away, then spin it?” Fred sniggered.

“I mean… it could work, but it’d take a bit longer,” Ron added, his face scrunching up in thought.

Alvah gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’ll do it.”

After a few moments, he started walking out of the garden as the gnome rattled and attempted to morsel his skin with razor sharp teeth. He hissed slightly in pain as the wrinkly creature managed to bite into his wrist, but after a while of grappling, he managed to clumsily spin it around and place it on the floor-where it finally wandered around dizzily, disappearing into some far-off shrubs.

He sighed in relief, wiping some of his mousey-brown hair from his face; noticing a few droplets of blood on his arm. Alvah placed his other hand over it to apply a little pressure as he reunited with the Weasleys. 

“Well, it worked,” Harry stated, smiling.

“Yeah,” Fred agreed thoughtfully, then he narrowed his eyes. “What are you hiding there?”

“Hiding? I don’t know what you mean…” Alvah said, not so subtly hiding his injured wrist.

George snuck up behind him and grabbed hold of his concealed hand. “You got bit by it! They can leave some nasty marks, gnomes. Mum can fix it up for you.”

Before Alvah could protest, George had dragged him back over to the house, the others following behind him - by the looks of it most of the de-gnoming had been done. 

Mrs Weasley tutted and waltzed over to him. “Honestly, what’re you like? Sit down there a minute.”

“Oh, alright,” Alvah said, following her instructions and taking a seat on the cushy but squeaky red sofa - would she get out a first aid kit? Or maybe she’d use a spell!

Alvah felt giddy as he watched her disappear into the kitchen for a moment when she returned, she had something gripped in her hand - a wand!

“Is that real?” Alvah asked, excitedly as she approached him.

“Of course, it is,” Mrs Weasley said, smiling softly. “Now, hold your wrist out, this might feel a little strange.”

Her wand began to softly illuminate his skin as she mumbled something inaudible. A warm but stinging sensation rushed over his cut - kind of like how it felt to get stitches, then she pulled away and to his amazement, the injury didn’t look like it ever happened. 

“Woah,” Alvah muttered, examining his unscarred skin. “That was amazing!”

Mrs Weasley giggled slightly, modestly waving one of her hands. “Oh, it was nothing much. Everyone learns that spell in charms class.”

“I could learn that spell…?” Alvah murmured in awe.

“Of course, you could,” Mrs Weasley chuckled gently, fussing over Alvah’s creased clothes. “Now, I don’t want you getting bitten again. You have to be more careful next time!” 

“Yes, Mrs Weasley,” Alvah muttered, playing with the hem of his sleeves.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and there was a chorus of "dad!" "It was yelled through the house as almost all the children hurried down to the front door. 


	7. The Burrow

A rather thin man with thinning red hair entered inside the house, his coat long and well worn. “What a night. Nine raids. Nine!” His green eyes glimmered as his children stared eagerly up at him.

Alvah watched quietly behind Harry, his lack of sleep finally catching up to him as Fred asked his dad something he didn’t quite catch. 

“Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?” said George. 

“Just Muggle-baiting,” sighed Mr Weasley. “Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it.. Of course, it’s very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking — they’ll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they’ll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it’s staring them in the face… But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn’t believe —” 

**“LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?”** Mrs Weasley bellowed as she stormed over to her husband, wielding a poker stick in one of her hands, pointing it at him.

“C-cars, Molly, dear?” Mr Weasley stuttered, concealing the nervousness evident in his tone with a smile.

Her lecture continued for a few more minutes, then Mr Weasley peered at Alvah and Harry. “Well, now!” Mr Weasley said, cloaking his tired voice with enthusiasm as he gazed between the two nervous boys. “Who’ve we got here, then?”

“You don’t know, dad?” George grinned. “These two are our second-cousins!”

Mrs Weasley gently tapped him with the poker stick on his shoulder as he giggled, her husband seemingly taking the bait. “Really…?”

“No, Arthur,” Mrs Weasley replied, placing the stick down and gesturing over to Harry. “This is Harry Potter.”

Mr Weasley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Good Lord! Are you really? Well, Ron’s told us all about you, of course. When did he get here?”

“This morning. Your sons flew that enchanted car of yours to Surrey and back last night,” Mrs Weasley stated hotly. 

Arthur Weasley smiled widely. “Did you really? How’d it go? Did you—”  
  
“Oh, it went-” Ron and Harry attempted, but were shortly cut off by Mrs Weasley as she gently tapped him on his shoulder, with a meaningful frown, causing Alvah’s lips to lift upwards in slight amusement.

“I mean…that was very wrong, indeed, boys. Very wrong of you!” Arthur Weasley corrected himself. Then he gazed at Alvah. “And who are you?”

“I’m Harry’s friend, Alvah,” he replied.

“Another friend of Harry’s, eh?” Mr Weasley beamed. “Say, that smile… You remind me of someone…” He inspected his face a few moments longer, then gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’m probably getting you mixed up with someone else, lad.” He plopped himself down on one of the seats eagerly leaning forward. “Now, you two must know all about Muggles. Tell me, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?”

“Um, it’s-”

“Don’t encourage him, Alvah,” Mrs Weasley sighed. “Honestly, he’d keep you away from Hogwarts if he had a chance to learn about muggle inventions.”

“Well, they are rather interesting,” Arthur smiled, attempting to deflect her understandably bad mood.

“Right,” George yawned. “I think that’s enough excitement for today. You wanna go upstairs, mate?”

Alvah was too distracted by the many different plates floating around the sink to hear what George had asked.

“Oi!” George tried again.

“Huh?” Alvah jumped, staggering slightly back and bumping clumsily into Harry and Ron. “Sorry,” he mumbled groggily.

“Woah, you’ve got eyebags the size of a troll!” Ron stated in shock. “And me and Harry would know. We had a nasty run-in with one last year. You should get to bed. There’s a guest room somewhere.”

“The attic, you mean,” George sighed. “Honestly, Ron. Do you want to get him killed?”

“Killed..?” Alvah croaked in fear. “What the heck is in your attic?”

“A ghost!” George grinned, clearly having fun tormenting him.

“George Weasley!” Mrs Weasley said, her tone low and warning.

“Okay, okay. I get it, mum,” George replied, moving hastily towards the steps. “Come on then!”

Ron, Harry and Alvah followed behind him as he traversed the many steps - just how many floors did the Weasleys even have? At this rate, Alvah felt like falling asleep on one of the many landings.

“You haven’t met Percy yet, have you?” Ron asked breathlessly.

“No,” Alvah answered bluntly. “Who’s that?”

“He’s our other brother,” Ron explained. 

“You need some more exercise, mate.” George laughed as Ron continued forwards. “You sound like you’re running out of air.”

“Says you!” Ron quipped back at his brother.

“Just how many siblings do you have?” Alvah inquired, brushing some stray hairs from his forehead. 

“Too many,” Ron sighed. “There’s me, Ginny, George, Fred, Percy, Bill and Charlie. But we don’t really see Bill or Charlie too much, since they’re usually busy.”

“That’s a lot of family members,” Alvah said, frowning thoughtfully. “How do you survive lunchtimes?”

“He has to fight for it,” Harry murmured. “At least, that’s what Ron told me.”

“It’s true,” Ron replied hurriedly. “I never get a chance to have desserts.”

“You had some desserts earlier,” George sighed. 

“Yeah, but that’s different! They were laying there on the table, they weren’t being surrounded by you lot during dinner.”

 **“DID YOU TAKE SOME OF THE DESSERT WITHOUT ASKING?”** Mrs Weasley’s voice resounded upstairs.

“Uh-oh, busted,” George mumbled.   
  
“How did she even hear that?” Harry asked, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Yeah… does she use magic to hear really well, or something?” Alvah chimed in.

“Nah, she’s just something we like to call, a mum.” George laughed. “Everyone knows they have super senses.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Alvah replied, cringing as he thought about the time he sneaked downstairs at night to rummage in the freezer for the ice-cream that was meant for her American friends. She somehow heard him although he was certain she was asleep upstairs.

They climbed two more flights until they approached a door with flaking paint and a tiny sign on it, reading "RONALD'S ROOM."

Ron turned to Alvah, apologetically. “I would let you in, but there’s only enough room for me and Harry.”

“That’s okay,” Alvah replied, smiling. “Do your brothers have any rooms?”

“Well… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for you to stay in Charlie’s room, but you’ll have to climb down all those stairs again,” George said thoughtfully. “Pretty sure it is unlocked though since mum’s been doing some cleaning.”

“Alright, thanks!” Alvah beamed, then he turned to Harry and Ron. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah!” Harry replied. “See you later.”

“Right then, I’ll show you where it is,” George said, staring down the many flights of stairs. “It’s at times like this I wish I knew how to apparate.”

“Apparate?” Alvah asked as he began following the taller Weasley downstairs. “What’s that?”

“It’s kind of like what muggles think teleporting is,” George replied. “It means we wouldn’t have to walk down all these steps.”

“So, which floor are you on?” Alvah inquired.

“I’m on the second floor, with Fred,” George answered. “But, I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Why?”

“Perfect Percy’s on that floor too, he can be a bit… unapproachable at the best of times,” George said. 

“Oh, okay.”

They both reached the second floor, after climbing down many more steps. Alvah licked his dry lips as he gazed around. “That’s your room, right?”

“I’d like to think so,” George giggled. “It’s got my name on it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alvah mumbled groggily. “Sorry, I’m just a little tired.”

“Well, the sooner you get some sleep the better, mate.” George gestured down the stairs. “That there is Charlie’s room, Ginny is just next door.”

“Thanks! I’ll see you later.” 

Just as Alvah attempted to go down the stairs, Fred came darting up them, nearly knocking him off of his feet. “Oops! Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Alvah huffed in amusement as he steadied himself again. 

Fred began talking to George about something in a hushed voice, cracking up every so often. He glanced back at Alvah. “See you tomorrow, then, Fun-sized wizard?”

“Fun-sized, wha?” Alvah murmured as George disappeared into his room and Fred closed the door.

Once Alvah entered Charlie’s room, he was greeted with many different photographs hanging on the walls - all of them were moving, similarly to the newspaper photographs of Gilderoy Lock-something, whatever his name was. 

His golden-brown eyes flickered along the many pictures until they stopped, landing on a moving photograph of who he presumed was Charlie handling a dragon - a real living dragon.

“No way…” Alvah murmured, stepping forward. “That’s so cool.”

The dragon was short and stumpy, with a round large head; spikes running along every inch of its back. As Charlie was handing the reins to someone else, the dragon breathed out, smoke pummeling around them and causing them to cough, before the photograph repeated itself again. 

Alvah had to duck as he moved towards, avoiding bumping his head on the sloping roof. Although the room was currently unoccupied, it was obvious that Mrs Weasley kept it pristine just in case her son came back to visit. The bed was neatly made, almost to a hotel standard - the covers a subtle shade of blue with criss-cross patterns decorated on it, the quilt seemed to be handmade.

Suddenly, the sound of an explosion erupted from upstairs, causing him to jolt upwards. The shy girl he saw earlier open his door two, peering inside. “Oh, sorry. Just thought I’d let you know, Fred and George do that a lot.”

“What are they even doing?”

She shook her head smiling. “No idea. I’m Ginny, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Alvah.”

“When we get a chance, we should definitely talk more,” she beamed. “I’m starting Hogwarts this year too. So we can be lost together, even if we aren’t in the same year group.”

Alvah smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll see you later anyway.”

“See you!”

The door clicked behind her and the smell of freshly cut grass and cleaning products filled Alvah’s nostrils as he laid down, throwing the blankets over his body. It didn’t take him too long to fall asleep, and his mind swiftly became enriched with colourful dreams of his house and mother.


	8. Fireplaces

A week at the Weasleys had come and gone - it was completely different to the atmosphere compared to the Dursleys when Alvah stayed there. Mr and Mrs Weasley were understanding and pleasant, especially Mrs Weasley; she’d always check on Alvah and Harry, making sure they were eating enough or had clothes they could wear. Mr Weasley would bombard Alvah with questions about the muggle world, as he put it. Sure, it was interesting listening to how he viewed normal gadgets but after a while it did get a little repetitive; until George or Fred pulled him away to show him their new exciting inventions of pranked items.

The ghoul in the attic would howl sometimes, whenever Alvah needed to go to the bathroom, and the occasional explosion from George and Fred’s room would awake him with a scare; but those were only small issues. Most of the time he had spent here so far had been fascinating - now that he knew magic existed, there was no way he was going back to his normal way of life.

“Oi, are you listening to me?” Fred exclaimed, roughly nudging Alvah’s shoulder with his own. “I was saying about the time George managed to mix up Snape’s potions, so he demonstrated it to the class, only to grow a really long beard and grey hair - aging potion! It was ingenious, really.”

A loud clatter interrupted their conversation, Alvah turned to see Ginny’s face as red as a tomato as she collected her dropped porridge bowl off of the floor. She quickly spun around, walking as far away as she could from Harry as Mr Weasley passed some toast to him.

Alvah frowned thoughtfully as he gazed at Percy as he took an elegant spoonful of his breakfast. “Um, Percy, is Ginny angry with Harry?”

Percy placed his spoon back down. “Not that I know of, why?”

“Well, she’s always dropping stuff around him, and gets really quiet near him,” Alvah explained. “She’s always been really chatty with me, so I don’t know why she’s acting like that with Harry.”

“Oh, well…” Percy swirled his spoon in his breakfast in contemplation, before he finished the sentence, he gave a light shrug. “I think it’s pretty obvious as to why she’s acting like that, don’t you?” 

Alvah shook his head. 

“She fancies him,” Fred informed him, rather loudly; although Harry hadn’t seemed to hear as he spoke animatedly with Ron.

Mrs Weasley gave a stern stare at him, and he suddenly lost his ability to speak as he chowed down on more of his food. Alvah giggled slightly as he reclined back in his chair, then something zipping by the window swept by his peripheral vision, followed by a loud squawk.

Mrs Weasley turned around from the kitchen, gazing outside. “That must be Errol with the post.”

It was a dark owl, with specks of grey running up its beak, it soared gracefully forwards, but instead of flying through the open window it collided with the glass, flopping embarrassingly down onto the floor outside. The other children looked on in confusion, except for Percy and Mrs Weasley who frowned in disappointment.

Mrs Weasley sighed, shaking her head, then she gazed over at her children. “Fetch him, will you, Percy?”

Without missing a beat, Percy got up from his seat, swiftly walking over to the ajar window and scooping up the letters clutched in Errol’s claws. Percy frowned down at the envelopes as he flipped them the right side up in his hands. “It's our Hogwarts letters! And look. They've sent Harry's and Alvah’s as well.”

Percy stepped over to the table, passing everyone their letters, they were all practically identical except for the green ink addressing each individual. 

"Dumbledore knows that you're here, you two—doesn't miss a trick, that guy," Mr Weasley said, as George ambled in, still in his pajamas.

“Took you long enough,” Fred joked as George launched himself into one of the rickety chairs and took a generous amount of bacon and eggs.

“I’m surprised you even got here earlier, Fred,” Ron stated bluntly, in between his mouthfuls of toast.

“Ronald, don’t talk with your mouth full!” Mrs Weasley complained.

Fred shrugged. “Just thought of making a change.”

“Yeah… like leaving earlier so you could cast flipendo on my bed,” George grumbled.

“Did not!” Fred protested, looking down at Alvah pointedly. “I’ve been sitting next to my new mate!”

Alvah’s brow scrunched up, remembering in between his daydreaming, that Fred had waltzed off somewhere. “Uh, yeah. He’s been with me this whole time.”

Fred nodded enthusiastically as he ripped open his Hogwarts letter. 

George shook his head at Alvah. “Traitor.”

“How did Dumbeldore know to send me a letter anyway?” Alvah asked, ignoring George. “My acceptance letter got… ripped up. I wouldn’t be able to even go to Hogwarts.”

“Have a look and see,” Mr Weasley said. “He has a way of knowing things.”

“Oh.”

Alvah opened the envelope, tucked inside were two letters, another acceptance letter, and a letter detailing all of the books he needed.

> **SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:**
> 
> The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk  
>  Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart  
> Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart  
>  Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart  
>  43 Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart  
>  Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart  
>  Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart  
>  Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart 

“Bloody Goldilocks again,” Alvah mumbled.

“Do you need to get all of Lockhart’s books too?” Ron asked.

“Yeah.”

Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with smothering his toast with marmalade. 

“That lot won’t come cheap,” George stated, with a quick worried look at his parents. “Lockhart’s books are really expensive…” 

“Well, we’ll manage,” Mrs Weasley replied, forcing a smile, although the twinkle in her eyes had been dulled. “I expect we’ll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny’s things secondhand.”

“Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?” Harry asked Ginny. 

Ginny nodded, although she leant forwards, her elbow squelching into the butter dish. Her freckled cheeks blazed just as brightly as her flaming hair, but unfortunately, Harry seemed to take notice. Alvah only hoped he hadn’t overheard what Fred had said earlier.

Percy had placed the poor old owl on a perch near the back door, he slipped off again, but before Percy could attempt to put him back on it, Alvah made a suggestion of him to look after Errol.

Reluctantly, Percy placed the old owl on Alvah’s lap, much to his excitement. His feathers were so soft, although most of them looked like he hadn’t been able to preen them properly due to his old age.

Ron had ripped open a letter, clearing his throat in order to catch everyone’s attention as he began to read it out loud.

“`Dear Ron, and Harry if you’re there, I hope everything went alright and that Harry is okay and that you didn’t do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too.”

Alvah smirked slightly as he rested his chin in one of his hands, he liked how Hermione sounded already!

“I’ve been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one-off. I’m very busy with schoolwork, of course’— How can she be?” said Ron in horror. “We’re on vacation! —‘and we’re going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don’t we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what’s happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.’” 

“Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too,” Mrs Weasley exclaimed, starting to clear the table.

“Um, sorry, what’s Diagon Alley?” Alvah inquired. 

“It’s like a shopping mall, dear.” Mrs Wealsey replied hastily as a pile of dirty plates flew by her. “What’re you all up to today?”

“Well,” Harry began as he moved over to Alvah’s side. “We were hoping to play some Quidditch, for practice and to show Alvah how it’s played.”

“Alright, sweetie, just be careful not to fly too far from the village, you wouldn’t want any muggles seeing you,” Mrs Weasley asked as she turned away.

Harry got a giddy look on his face as he turned to Alvah. “Do you want a ride on my broomstick?”

“Ride on your what?” Alvah squeaked, imagining the obscene heights and blurring trees. He was going to politely decline, but seeing Harry’s glistening green eyes made him feel slightly guilty. “Er, I guess so.”

“Great! I’ll go and get everything set up with Fred and George!”

Ten minutes later, Alvah was herded outside alongside Ron, Fred and George had apples clutched in their hands as they waltzed forwards towards a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, hopefully meaning that the people wouldn’t be able to see people flying around in the sky.

Alvah was baffled at how he had never suspected anything since he saw letters pouring from Harry’s chimney last year - he felt so silly.

“Right, I’ll go first, to show Alvah how it’s done. Ron and I will be seekers this round, Fred and George said they’ll be the keepers, that way it keeps things simple,” Harry explained, leisurely sitting on his broom. For a few split moments, Alvah thought that he wouldn't be able to fly, and they were all pulling his leg, but soon enough Harry’s feet were off of the ground - watching him was amazing, but at the same time, gut wrenching. He wasn’t too high up, to avoid being seen, but he was high enough to make Alvah’s stomachs do backflips.

After ten minutes had gone by, Alvah vaguely understood what Quidditch was about, but when Harry asked if he wanted a go, he visibly flinched. “Um, I don’t know how to ride a broom.”

“Yeah, Harry,” Ron said breathlessly as he marched over to him, his old broomstick clutched in his hand. “He didn’t have riding lessons since he wasn’t at Hogwarts last year.”

  
“Oh, right,” Harry said, looking slightly guilty at his forgetfulness - Alvah knew it was probably due to his enthusiasm for the sport that it slipped his mind though. 

“It’s okay, Harry.” Alvah smiled as he sat down in the grass. “You could always show me, I guess. I might not be great at it though.”

“Okay! Well, the first thing you need to do is yell up at the broom when it’s on the floor. It’ll eventually fly up to your hand if you do it right,” Harry explained he placed his broomstick into the soft grass blades.

Awkwardly, Alvah followed his instructions as Fred and George watched - surprisingly not laughing at his many failed attempts. After what felt like hours, the broom finally flew upwards, chaotically flying passed his fingers, then landing on his forehead.

“That’s okay!” Harry smiled. “Here, I can fly on it with you, if you want?”

Alvah gazed around, noting George, Fred and Ron’s eager expressions. “O-okay.”

Harry picked up his broom, sitting at the front, Alvah followed him and sat behind his friend, placing his hands around his stomach as the floor escaped his shaking feet. Harry slowly drifted around the small patch of land, not travelling too fast or too high - but even this pace made Alvah feel queasy, he always wasn’t great travelling in cars or planes either, he imagined it would feel different on a broomstick, but Alvah was still getting motion sickness.

“Please can I get down now?” Alvah asked, clutching Harry like a lifeline. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Harry agreed, gracefully swooping down and landing on the ground. 

“Are you scared of heights?” Ron asked.

“No, not really, it’s the motion of it, I think,” Alvah mumbled. 

“Not really your thing?” Harry asked, almost a little put-out.

Alvah kicked a small pebble near his foot as he stepped off of the broomstick. “It’s alright, if I didn’t have motion sickness it’d probably be great… but….”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said reassuringly as he patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find out what you like when you start this year’s lessons.”

They marched up a hill five minutes later, broomsticks on their backs. They asked Percy to join them if he wanted to, but he said he was busy. So far, Alvah had only seen Percy at mealtimes; the rest of the time he remained locked in his room.

Fred stated, frowning, "Wish I knew what he was up to. He’s not himself. His exam results came the day before you two did; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all.” 

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," explained George, seeing a confused look from Harry and Alvah. "Bill just got twelve. We'll get another Head Boy in the family if we're not careful. I don't think I'll be able to bear the guilt.”

“Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year,” George filled in the silence after a while. “Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand  
and everything…” 

Alvah felt as if he needed to help them, but he didn’t really have anything he could give them. He knew if his mum was here, she’d probably offer some of her money, but…

George gazed at Alvah as they traversed back to the house. “Don’t worry about it, mate. I’m sure you’ll be in a similar situation, you probably won’t have any sickles, knuts or galleons.”

“You have a different currency?” Alvah asked as he approached the front door.

“Yeah, muggle money is pretty much useless in the wizarding world,” Fred informed him bluntly.

“Oh no,” Alvah sighed.

The next Wednesday, all of the Weasley’s, Harry and Alvah were hurried out of bed and given bacon sandwiches. They put on their coats and Mrs Weasley pulled a flowerpot from the mantelpiece in the kitchen, peeking inside. 

"Arthur, we're running low," she sighed. Today we're going to have to buy some more... Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry, dear! "Then she gave the flowerpot to him.

Harry’s bright eyes grew wide in alarm as he gazed around the crowd of people in the room. 

“W-what am I supposed to do?” he stammered

“Harry and Alvah have never travelled by Floo powder,” said Ron suddenly. “Sorry, I forgot.” 

“Never?” asked Mr Weasley. “But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year, Harry?”

“I went on the Underground —”

“Really?” exclaimed Mr Weasley eagerly. “Were there escapators? How exactly —”

“Not now, Arthur,” replied Mrs Weasley. “Floo powder is a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you’ve never used it before —” 

“Floo powder?” Alvah asked, slightly tilting his head.

Mrs Weasley looked around the room, then her eyes stopped on Percy. “Percy. Would you mind going first, so Harry and Alvah can see how it's done?”

Percy eagerly stepped forward with a small smile. “Certainly, Mother. Don't worry, you two. It's simple enough.”

He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped into the old unlit fireplace, and dropped the powder into it.

Mrs Weasley herded her family, Harry and Alvah away from- what Alvah deduced - was harm's way.

Percy gazed up at his mother, then yelled: “Diagon Alley!” with a boom, a bright green fire erupted from the brickwork underneath his feet, soaring higher than Percy, who - to Alvah's amazement had disappeared.

Alvah and Harry watched as the fire fizzled out, their eyes wide. Then Mrs Weasley stepped forward. “You see? It’s quite easy, dear, don’t be afraid. Come on!” She raised one of her arms in Harry’s direction, who similarly to Alvah looked apprehensive, upon seeing someone disappearing into what appeared to be a hot fiery demise.

Mr Weasley patted Harry on the back as Mrs Weasley beckoned Harry forwards."In you go!”

“Mind your head!” She gently coaxed him to stand in the fireplace. “That’s right,” Mrs Weasley comforted Harry as she offered him the flowerpot. “Now take your Floo Powder!”

“And be sure to get out at the right grate…” 

“The right what?” said Harry nervously.

“Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you’ve spoken clearly —”

“He’ll be fine, Molly, don’t fuss,” Mr Weasley replied softly.

“But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?”

“They wouldn’t mind,” Harry reassured her, the powder trickling from his enclosed fist. “Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don’t worry about that —” 

Alvah stared at Harry sadly for a moment. “Harry…”

“It’s alright, honest!” he said, with a smile.

“Well… all right… Remember to speak very, very clearly,” said Mrs Weasley.

Alvah tentatively watched Harry as he dropped the Floo Powder, following Percy’s demonstration, Mrs Weasley raised one of her arms near Alvah and Ginny as she slightly moved backwards. Harry fixed his eyes on them, then yelled loudly. “Diagonally!”

With a poof of flames, he disappeared.

All of the Weasley’s crowded around the fireplace after he vanished, Mrs Weasley turned to her husband. “What did he say, dear?”

“Diagonally,” he replied, his hands resting on his hips.

“I thought he did,” she mumbled quickly, looking back at the Floo Powder.

George turned to Alvah with a large smirk. “How about you try it, guests first and all that.”

Alvah paled as Mrs Weasley turned to him. “Now, don’t you worry! Just remember to speak clearly. I suppose we’ll have to see if we can find Harry when we arrive.”

He nodded as he stepped into the fireplace, he took a deep breath and dispersed the powder; the fire felt like a warm breeze as it crackled underneath his feet; he opened his mouth and instantly regretted it, ingesting a lot of hot ash. He began coughing as he spluttered the words, then it felt like he had begun to fall down a rocky mountain.

He was spinning chaotically—the sensation was nauseating. He tried to grab onto something but his hands were out of his control, as the whirl of green flames twirled him around—something heavy hit his back, and he flinched from the pain, still rotating and rolling, he felt as if snowballs were being hurled at his skin—narrowing his golden-brown eyes, he saw a distorted line of fireplaces and snapped a glimpse of the many rooms beyond his reach and suddenly…

He lurched forwards, falling flat on his stomach on cold stones. 


	9. An Awkward Introduction

Woozy, sore, and sooty, he leant on his quivering hands, hacking up dust. He felt severely sick from being twirled around and the room was rather blurred for him, all he could see was that he was alone in some sort of stone fireplace in what looked like a huge, darkened shop—he had no idea where he was.

Once his balance had returned, he staggered to his feet, wiping a dirty sleeve over his mouth, which he realised was bleeding - he must have bit his bottom lip while falling. What kind of transportation was that anyway? What an awful way to travel. He leant against the wall, trying to fix his dark curly locks of hair, then his gaze set on a set of evil masks glaring down at him from the walls, human bones chaotically piled onto a mantelpiece next to a hand that was sitting on a cushion. 

He lurched back, then something glinted in the darkness. 

“Alvah!” A sharp whisper reverberated. 

Great, he was about to be kidnapped, wasn’t he?

“Alvah, it’s me, Harry!” 

“What?” He spun around, noticing his friend was also covered in soot, with bruises dotted around his skin - his glasses were broken and his nose was bleeding.

“Oh my gosh, Harry, you’re bleeding!” Alvah said worriedly as he stepped over to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry replied, subconsciously trying to remove the blood with his sleeve. 

“Where are we anyway?” Alvah asked. “Is this Diagon Alley?”

“Well, if it is, it’s changed a lot since I’ve been here,” Harry answered sarcastically. “Hold on…”

Blond hair passed by the window and the sound of soft murmuring became louder.

“Someone’s coming!” Harry hissed. “Quick! In here, with me!”

Alvah was quite literally yanked into a large cabinet to their left, pulling the doors closed and leaving a small crack for both of them to peer through. It was a very tight squeeze for the both of them though. Seconds later, a bell clanged, alerting whoever was keeping this very weird shop to a customer entering, Alvah could just about make out a boy his age with slicked-back blond hair entering, shortly followed by someone who must have been his dad.

He had the same pale, pointed face and the same coloured hair, although it was very long compared to his son. The older man crossed the store, gazing lazily at the things on sale, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying sharply, "Draco, touch nothing."

‘Draco’, who had reached out to what looked to be a glass eye, quietly replied, “Of course, father.” Then he paused, dropping his hand back to his side. “I thought you were going to buy me a present.” 

"I said I was going to buy you a racing broom," his father replied, drumming his fingers on the counter.

“What’s the good of that if I’m not on the House team?” Draco sighed, his voice laced with envy. “Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He’s not even that good, it’s just because he’s famous… famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead…” He bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.

“… everyone thinks he’s so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick —” 

“You have told me this at least a dozen times already,” his dad retorted coldly, with a quelling gaze. “And I would remind you that it is not — prudent — to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear — ah, Mr Borgin.” 

A stooping man emerged behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.

"Oh, Mr Malfoy, what a pleasure it is to see you again," Mr Borgin exclaimed in a tone as greasy as his hair. "Delighted—and the young Master Malfoy, too, was charmed. How can I get assistance? I have to bring you, only in today, and very reasonably priced—"

“I’m not buying today, Mr Borgin, but selling,” ‘Mr Malfoy’ interrupted coldly.

“Selling?” The grin disappeared slightly from the face of Mr Borgin.

“Draco!” ‘Mr Malfoy’ called over his shoulder.

His son awkwardly carried a black sealed chest over to him and placed it on the table, then he turned away, resuming looking around the store.

“You have heard, no doubt, that the Ministry is conducting more raids on private houses,” said ‘Mr Malfoy’, reaching inside his pocket, he took a roll of parchment and revealed it to Mr Borgin.

Harry’s shoulder bumped against Alvah as he struggled to stand in a more comfortable position. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Mr Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list. “The Ministry wouldn’t presume to trouble you, sir, surely?” 

“I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumours about a new Muggle Protection Act —” 

“Pure wizard blood is hard to find these days, I’m afraid,” Mr Borgin stated.

“Not with me…” ‘Mr Malfoy’ growled, his grey eyes growing colder, then he reached for the black chest and opened it.

Alvah felt unexpectedly incredibly queasy but it was no longer due to his motion sickness – that man was crazy! He didn’t understand much of the politics in the wizarding world, but judging from his tone, he knew he's opposed to defending citizens like him – Okay, he guessed that he wasn't a regular person any more... but most likely his mom still was. He wouldn't let anybody like him hurt his mother!

“— Anyway and as you see, these items might prove embarrassing if the ministry were to call — just poisons and the like.”

“I understand, sir, of course,” said Mr Borgin. “Let me see…”

He began inspecting the items, then he stopped and his eyes grew wide as he gazed down at something Alvah couldn’t quite make out. “Look at that!”

Mr Malfoy stared at him dangerously. “That particular item is not for sale.”

“I understand, it has unique qualities, one wouldn’t see it falling into the wrong hands,”

“Can I have that?” Draco interrupted, referring to the withered hand on top of an old cushion that Alvah had spotted before.

“Ah, the Hand of Glory!” Mr Borgin said, dropping Mr Malfoy's list and progress over to Draco. “Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir.”

“I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin,” Mr Malfoy stated coldly, and Mr Borgin hastily stammered. “No offense, sir, no offense meant —”

“Though if his grades don’t pick up,” growled Mr Malfoy, icier still, “that may indeed  
be all he is fit for —”

“It’s not my fault,” retorted Draco. “The teachers all have favourites, that Hermione  
Granger —”

“I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in  
every exam” snapped Mr Malfoy. 

“Ha!” Harry muttered under his breath, Alvah remained silent as he shifted, the sickness not going away as Draco fiddled with his robes, looking both abashed and frustrated. 

Although Draco definitely resembled his father and appeared to be spoilt, Alvah couldn’t help but feel slightly sorry for him. His dad was obviously abusive, even though it was in a different way to Harry’s family - it most definitely wasn’t a normal way of a parent treating their child.

Harry watched cautiously as Draco grew closer and closer to their hiding spot, studying the items for sale. Draco paused to study a long coil of the hangman's rope and to read, the card on the beautiful opal necklace, Caution: Do Not Strike. Cursed—The Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners have been claimed to date.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

His father seemed to have been brainwashing him too, no doubt.

Silently, Draco frowned, then sauntered over to the cabinet Alvah and Harry were currently crammed in. Alvah held his breath as his grey eyes squinted, looking at the decorations on the front of it, his lips twitching upwards in intrigue as his father handed Mr Borgin the money. “You can keep the box.” 

  
Suddenly, Mr Malfoy slammed his cane into the back of Draco’s hand, causing him to hiss out as his father narrowed his eyes at him. The cabinet shook from the force of it alone.“What did I say?”

“Touch nothing,” Draco replied.

“Exactly,” Mr Malfoy growled.

“Sorry father,” Draco stated as he nervously watched the cane to his side lift away from him. 

His father raised his eyebrows at him, then shifted. “Come on, we’re going.”

Draco hesitantly slipped away from the cabinet, that’s when it happened, Alvah gagged, unable to suppress his sickness any longer.

Harry cringed as Alvah lurched forward into the corner and proceeded to vomit. The taste was absolutely awful, it didn’t help he had bacon sandwiches before he had been spun around like a coin. Then the cabinet door swung open, full force, revealing Mr Malfoy’s sneering face, inches away from Harry’s. 

He dragged him out first with his cane, shoving him outside the cabinet near the clearly confused Draco. “Father…?”

“It seems we were being listened in on,” Mr Malfoy growled, his eyes turning on Alvah. His eyebrows raised, his blond hair falling over his shoulders as he shoved Harry over towards Draco. “And an accomplice.”

Alvah was yanked outside, feeling completely embarrassed. 

“We fell into the fireplace,” Harry tried to reason, although his voice was a little heated as Mr Malfoy’s gloved hands firmly kept his friend in place. “We didn’t mean to come here, it was a mistake.”

  
“Well, well, well,” Mr Malfoy mused, peering over at the slightly visibly scar on his forehead. “If it isn’t Mr Potter. Your scar is legend. As, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you.”

“He was a murderer,” Harry said coldly.

Mr Malfoy smirked slightly, his hands still resting on Alvah’s shoulders. “Yes, a pity about your parents. Curious that you yourself should escape with a mere flesh wound. Curious, too, that you speak of him in the past. Surely, you don't think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone forever.”

“His name is Voldemort,” Harry stated.

Draco flinched slightly at the name, but it didn’t look like his father caught him - at least Alvah knew the dark wizard’s name now. 

Mr Malfoy shifted slightly, squinting. “You must be very brave, Mr Potter, to dare speak his name, or foolish.”

“Let Alvah go, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” Harry spat.

“Alvah…” he tested the name on his tongue, a small frown forming on his pale face. “Hmm, that sounds familiar. How odd I’ve never come across you before.”

“Father knows nearly everyone at Hogwarts,” Draco gloated as Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yes, thank you, Draco,” Mr Malfoy replied icily, his eyes sliding down to meet Alvah’s defiant gaze. “You remind me of someone, are you a new student.”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“I’m sure your friend can speak for himself,” Mr Malfoy stated, twirling his cane lazily around in his hands.

The snake on the top of it glistened in the dim light, flickering images of an oversized snake lunging forward. Alvah leant his body weight away from Mr Malfoy, his head ringing for a moment, then he fixed his stance. “My name is Alvah Laverne.”

“Laverne,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Surely, not. As far as I was aware the last Laverne was killed shortly after the first wizarding war. Although, I suppose it to be plausible that your father could have survived, he was an intelligent man.”

“You knew my dad?” Alvah questioned hopefully, even if it was just breadcrumbs of information, he wanted to find out anything he could about his father.

“Yes, indeed,” Mr Malfoy said, lessening his grasp on him. “Interesting that I have heard nothing about you though. I had no idea a son of my friend would be transferring here.”

“Did you know my mother too?” Alvah questioned.

“No, I never had the pleasure of meeting her,” he said carefully. “I suppose you’d be a pure-blood? After all, your father was.”

“I don’t know,” Alvah answered honestly. “I didn’t know I was a wizard until a few months ago.”

“Alvah,” Harry interrupted. “Let’s go.”

“Not so fast!” Mr Borgin growled. “You’ll have to pay for that cabinet, you did dirty it up after all.”

He approached Alvah, looming over him like a tower. “I don’t have any-”

“It’s quite alright,” Mr Malfoy growled. “I’ll pay for it.”

Alvah was puzzled, judging from how he spoke about people he deemed ‘unworthy’, he expected him to murder him and Harry or something - even his son looked rather confused as Harry glared daggers into him.

“I’m sure it was an accident, they did have quite a fall, I presume.” Mr Malfoy growled.

Mr Malfoy handed him a generous amount of golden coins, Alvah heard from Geroge and Fred the golden ones were galleons. Harry was right, the Malfoy’s must have been pretty rich.

“Come along then, I can show you to Diagon Alley,” Mr Malfoy stated. “You both are in quite a state though, aren’t you?”

Harry’s face scrunched up with anger as he moved to Alvah’s side and dragged him closer towards himself. “I’m sure we can find our way ourselves.”

“Now, now, don’t be so stubborn,” Mr Malfoy huffed. “I’m sure Draco would like to be acquainted with Mr Laverne too.”

Mr Malfoy stepped forwards, opening the misty glass door, allowing the three boys to walk outside first. Alvah stuck close to Harry like glue, remembering what the Weasleys had said about the Malfoys, he didn’t want to be too judgemental, but he trusted his friend’s outlook since he had been here for a year more than him. 

They all trudged behind Mr Malfoy as odd-looking people giggled and watched Harry and Alvah.

Maybe Mr Malfoy was leading them to their demise.

“So,” Draco sneered, breaking Alvah from his rushing mind. “You’re starting in second-year?”

“He is,” Harry answered hotly for him. “McGonagall sent him an updated acceptance letter, saying that he could join us in our year last week.”

“Last week, Potter?” Draco lazily purred in amusement. “He won’t have a clue about anything will he?”

“I am right here, you know,” Alvah mumbled. 

“Well, I could always help you out,” Draco stated, his chest puffing.

“Fat chance,” Harry spat. “I’m showing him around, I don’t want him hanging around with the wrong sort.”

Draco scowled deeply at him, then he focussed his attention on Alvah instead. “I can assure you I am very much the right sort, I'm a pureblood wizard; I am descended from one of the most powerful families here. If you stick with me, I can make your time at Hogwarts a breeze."

Harry huffed, shaking his head.

“I’d imagine spending time with the likes of them would only end up with you spending time in detention or the hospital wing,” Draco sneered. “Last year, we were all made to go to the Forbidden Forest for detention, since Potter decided it to be a good idea to roam the corridors past curfew.”  
  
“How come you had to go with them?” Alvah frowned.

“They set me up,” Draco responded flatly. 

“You set yourself up, Malfoy!” Harry snapped. “It was your fault we all ended up in detention - besides what did you do when you saw Voldemort drinking Unicorn blood? You ran.”

“I must have been seeing things,” Draco retorted sharply. “There’s no way that was You-Know-Who.”

“Believe what you want,” Harry sighed.

Suddenly, a large thumping erupted around the dark alleyways. Alvah’s eyes widened upon seeing a very tall, bearded man staring down at them. He was wrapped in a posh mole-skin coat. “Harry!” 

“Hagrid!” Harry yelled in relief. “Alvah, this is Hagrid, Hagrid, this is Alvah, one of my new friends.”

“Ooh, aye,” Hagrid said, looking at him in curiosity, then his dark eyes moved over to land on Mr Malfoy, he was looking at Hagrid in distaste. “Mr Malfoy.”

“Rubeus Hagrid,” he sneered. “What are YOU doing fumbling around in such a place, surely you wouldn’t be up to something scandalous, now, would you?”

“No, sir,” Hagrid replied hastily. “I was just, er- trying to find Harry.”

“You were,” Mr Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“And look here! I found him and his little friend, now if you’ll excuse me, we should be going,” Hagrid stated, as Harry pried Alvah over towards him.

“Hmm, how… nice…” Mr Malfoy growled. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you both formally.” He turned to his son, clutching his cane a little harder than before. “Wasn’t it, Draco?”

“Yes, father,” Draco agreed. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Alvah.”

“Let’s go then,” Mr Malfoy said coldly. “We have a few errands to run.”

Draco nodded, then moved by Harry, Alvah and Hagrid, a small smirk appearing on his face as he analysed Harry and his friend - then he disappeared into the crowded littered streets.


End file.
